My dad gave my 9 year old son one of my Grandmother's wigs. He wears it around the house...I have even found him standing by the mirror in it, combing it, fixing it, just touching it. And he has her blanket too.... He sleeps with it at night. It is white with pink flowers. He has such a tender heart. Sign in to see full entry.
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About this Blog
My life often seems like a fragmented piece of fabric, all jumbled and mixed up. And yet, I realize that is because there are so many things that are important to me. Love for my kids, my desire to write, my "obsession" with the unexplainable and the sentimental, my desire to take "the road less traveled". All of these are threads of my life, each beautiful and simple in its own way. And all together, they make up the fabric of who I was, who I am and who I am becoming.
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