Ever the early riser he crawls out of bed in the darkness. Only half aware I slide across the sheets to his side still warm from his presence. Whisper soft fringes of threads that border the recently worn hole in the flannel brush my skin as I slide by. I think about this hole. Interesting that neither his side or mine has given way, but in the push and pull between us it is this space, the union of the two that has given way over time.
These old sheets have graced our bed for over a decade now. They've served their purpose and a new set waits in the linen closet just outside my door. Those new sheets are not so familiar and comfortable as these. The flannel is sturdy, but it doesn't caress my skin as gently as these old sheets worn velvety over time.
Not ready to let them go I pull out needle and thread and set to work. The waft and the weft of my stitches like time and shared experience reinforce the weak spot. I don't add too many stitches so that I don't create a thickened area that rubs and irritates. It takes care to add just enough to make the spot stronger without over doing. Restraint, measured intention go into each stitch.
It might be easier to just start new, but I am not ready to give up on these well worn sheets just yet. Imperfect, they still have life in them. That new set of sheets would look better, I know, but at the end of the day these are the sheets I want wrapped around me. The sheets that make me feel safe and loved. I will sleep well tonight.
The William Morris philosophy making me see my life in simple terms again this week. There is satisfaction in simplicity.