ginger snapped.

I am pulling back fabric from the needles watching helpless as a few slipped stitches scatter down unraveling the tapestry that has been our lives together for almost twelve years.

Realizing for the first time: I cannot fix this.

And I crawl beneath blankets holding the warmth of the dog close as if my life depended on it, but cotton and batting isn’t strong enough to keep our world from shattering down around me.

Life doesn’t owe me any favors, but I could sure use a break.