By Don Pelton

For some reason this article (mentioned on Facebook by our daughter) reminds me that my mom, when she died at age ninety, left us a whole chest-of-drawers full of unsewn fabric (future projects, I suppose). Not as old as 3,000 years, but many decades’ worth.

In the days before she died, when she lapsed into some sort of dream state, we watched as she lay on her back in bed, holding her hands aloft in a series of beautiful gestures that looked for all the world as if she were threading a needle and perhaps sewing something in her imagination. Sewing was the core of her creative life, and I imagine she was finishing up her work on her soul — a beautiful garment indeed — in those final days