I have lived in places wiped flat to the ground, walked on streets that no longer exist. So many people have been woven through my life, more than I can count, some whose name I can't remember, some whose name I never knew; too many of the most vibrant stitches have been pulled from the cloth, but they were there. There were smiles and laughter; I have pictures to prove they once existed. My fingers trace the patterns, the colorful and the subdued. Now and then there are holes, some small, others I can fit my whole hand through. My grasp is not up to the task of bringing it all together. This blanket holds me close. It appears infinite; I know it is not. Someday, like the people and places who have disappeared from my life, I will become someone's memory. But for now, I am still here.
~Elise Skidmore ©2023