|Every quilt needs a rosebud patch....|
It's the kind of day that wants a cup of tea and a picture book. The kind that wants my shoes off and my feet wrapped in Grandma Slippers, the handknit ones with pom-poms.
I want flannel jammies and a robe that isn't scratchy. I want old-school Sesame Street episodes on the TV. I want Bob McGrath singing 'Windy Day.' I want Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood immediately afterward, and I want to imagine living in the land of Make Believe, where it's always overcast, and kittens wear dresses and live in treehouses and speak in meows and I understand what they're saying.
And my day should be chicken-noodle-soup-scented. There should be Colorforms on my bedside table. A quilt on my lap made of swatches of fabrics I wore in school, squares that I can trace with my fingers as they march up the patchwork hills like little hand soldiers, an edging so soft and silky that it makes my eyes close involuntarily. A dimestore sketchbook at my elbow where I can draw horses and erase the hooves until holes are worn in the paper (hardest things ever for my little hands to draw!).
And at 3:30 I want to hear the school buses go by. And I want to watch the day turn to dusk outside my window. And then I want to curl up in a Rip Van Winkle kind of sleep, where long healing years pass slowly but when I wake it's only the next morning, full to the brim with undiscovered magick and impossible possibilities.
Yup, that's what I want.
And -- no surprise -- just writing these words has made me feel better. :)