Mending the Frayed Edges
on 'paying attention to the good in the smallness of our lives'
Pulling the needle through the ripped, thread-barren muslin pieces as my fingers pinched the two sections together, I fought back my inner critic, acknowledging my poor sewing skills. He won’t care if it’s not perfect, I assured myself. My son had been requesting I make repairs to his beloved bankie for over a month, worrying the rips would get larger, as they had been.
I had a million things to do today but as I brought a folded pile of clean clothes to his bed, bankie caught my eye. I turned quickly to leave the room and those ripped, frayed edges were suddenly my heart.
Four-year-old Luke toddling through the house in his undies, dragging bankie on the ground, giggling; Oh I miss that voice. The many, many nights bankie gets left somewhere in the house or in the car and he can’t sleep until someone finds and retrieves it. The sweet times he snuggles next to me on the couch and shares bankie over our legs, even now, as a big boy (he’s nine).
I came back and picked bankie up and put it to my face, inhaling deeply as I closed my eyes. When Luke first comes home to bankie or finds it after it’s been lost, that’s what he does. He holds it up to his face in a snuggle-bearhug with his eyes closed and smiles with all of his teeth showing as he inhales his beloved friend. I couldn’t smell anything but Luke says it’s ‘home’.
Minutes later, bankie is carefully spread across my lap and as I fumble with the needle threader, I’m mentally reorganizing my to-do list, knowing, with my lack of sewing confidence, this will take some time. I feel anxious.
But after getting started, I hear Gymnopedie 1 by Erik Satie - the song I played on repeat while succumbing to breastfeeding bliss, staring down at his milky porcelain skin and long eye lashes, that dimple that would appear when he’d smile, knowing I was watching him. In those moments, the chaos of the world couldn’t touch me. The important work came first.
I have found a rhythm now: poke, pull, poke, pull. It seems to match the beating of my heart. I’ve been smiling the entire time. I realize bankie isn’t the only thing with frayed edges needing repair. I realize these repairs are the important work. My breath has slowed down now. I wish time would.
Liturgy of the Little Things
I’m grateful for
from for inviting her subscribers and followers to participate in “‘Liturgy of the Little Things’, an invitation to pay attention to the good in the smallness of our lives”. This prompt inspired this piece of writing today. I’ll be sharing my posts for this prompt over on my Instagram account; join me there if you’d like. Today is day 3 and each day has been a life-giving treat.Learn more about Sarah, this prompt for November, and her Substack here.
Poetry By KBP
I have a section added to my Substack for Poetry. You can access it from the main navigation heading/bar. I’m still trying to figure out how to best manage it but for now, I’m not sending all of my poems out to subscribers so please feel free to visit that section if you’d like to read any of my poems. These are my most recent ones…
This first one, Luck Found Me, was inspired by Liturgy of the Little Things
