These are Marge’s hands.
Every morning after breakfast she would crumble up bread to feed the pigeons.
Marge passed away on Thursday evening.
Life and death don’t happen at convenient times, I was running a workshop this weekend. As much as I didn’t feel up to it I had to get out of bed and face the day. I am so glad I did. This class was a lovely group of women
Our hands worked.
Our thoughts aligned.
And some things were made to float.
Thank you ladies.
You saved me from time in my mind.
One thought on “Hands”
What a beautiful memory of your friend. Thinking of you, Cara