missing you

It’s Sunday. One of my favorite seven days of the week. The day that it seems perfectly acceptable to rest. Even just for a quick nap, or early bedtime, a lounge on the couch or a late wake up. 

I’m a bit under the weather. Rest has been prescribed along with a handful of meds and my own dosing of essential oils. 

My husband has checked in with me from church, sending me love and well wishes. I’ll miss him playing music today, and we are both sorry of that. 

I’ve puttered around the house a while, had my coffee and tended the dogs. It’s quiet. So quiet. I started the laundry to do a light chore to feel productive. I rest better that way.  There’s only a scant load, but the tempo of the  swishing water adds texture to the quiet of the house. 

I’m settling up under a quilt getting ready to watch  How to Make an American Quilt. It’s been ages since I’ve seen it. 

The movie starts and it begins with a scene of quilting prep. With a heartbreaking pang, I miss my Nannie. 

I give myself a rare treat. 

I open my Nannie’s hope chest. It was stationed at the foot of her bed for as long as I can remember. Full of extra bars of soap and blankets. Her journals are in it now. I haven’t read them. I am satisfied to catch a few words here and there. I quickly fan the pages of one of them to catch a scent of her home. I just as quickly shut the chest, hoping to retain her scent as long as possible. 

It’s enough. 

Love you more. 

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