My heart can get full sometimes.

It can complicate life.

My heart bursts with the hurts and the joys of others.  And then it gets all mixed up, mashed, and bubbly as i wonder what i can do to alleviate hurts i have no control over, or share in joys that are not mine…or wish for joys that are not mine…

And I find myself dreaming of the swaying of skirts, the swish of ribbons, and the feel of buttons in my hands.  I pull out my scissors, paw through boxes of fabric, and lay out grand plans for healing my heart through my hands.

In my mind, new babies are clothed in soft cotton kimono wraps, my girlfriends sashay in skirts that match their darling daughters, my child’s dollies and puppies are adorned with new accessories, i am forced to buy new shoes just to match the perfect little spring dress i whipped up, and my child snuggles up under her new quilt made just for her.

In reality, my projects take far longer because although the dreams are there, the time is not.

But I know, if I have the time to stitch every day, my heart would be too busy making love with fabric to notice it hurt at all.