Quilts Like a fading piece of cloth I am a failure

No longer do I cover tables filled with food and laughter My seams are frayed my hems falling my strength no longer able To hold the hot and cold

I wish for those first days When just woven I could keep water From seeping through Repelled stains with the tightness of my weave Dazzled the sunlight with my Reflection

I grow old though pleased with my memories The tasks I can no longer complete Are balanced by the love of the tasks gone past

I offer no apology only this plea:

When I am frayed and strained and drizzle at the end Please someone cut a square and put me in a quilt That I might keep some child warm

And some old person with no one else to talk to Will hear my whispers

And cuddle Near -    by Nikki Giovanni

There are days like today, when I am reminded of my "fabric-ness".  Of the fabric of each of us.  Moments when we are not at our best.  When age or illness or humanity catches up with us and like Henry Fonda's Norman Thayer in "On Golden Pond" we cannot avoid the reflection in the mirror. We grow old.  Child, daughter, mother, grandmother, and then?

How are we measured?  When we are frayed and strained and no longer what we once were, do we still have purpose?  When we cannot remember what we had for lunch, cannot find the way back to the small house around the corner, do we still have value?

What I really want to know is, when that day comes, will someone remember to cut a square and put me in a quilt?

Image from here.