I have been thinking of clandestine foolishness.

The Fed Ex truck has just pulled out of the driveway. On board is the wedding dress I made for my friend. We went to high school together, graduating 20 years ago only seeing one another if I remember correctly, twice since then. I jumped at the chance to make her dress. She didn’t ask, I volunteered. I made sure to let her know that I am no magic seamstress. I make things with love. Generally I live a pretty flawed existence and I’m fine with that. Perfection isn’t my thing.

I agonized for weeks over the making of this dress. Most of it in my head. Indulging in so many scenarios where I ruined her wedding ( inflated ego much? ) by my sub par zipper insertion techniques. She will give this dress life, make it shine and make it beautiful. Cloth is cloth. Without a human soul, it is lifeless. And get over yourself, Brooke.

There are many number of indulgences of clandestine foolishnesses these days. Well trodden paths that lead nowhere but circles. I have been trying to give myself a realistic perspective of my role in other people’s lives. Not to minimize our mistakes and their impact on others but to get a clearer view of our place in the world. I can worry a problem threadbare sometimes for no discernible reason. In secret a worry can grow, grow large, grow ugly and grow out of control.

We are all the whole, broken in to little pieces that all fit in together, somehow. Our victories and our sorrows. Mistakes that loom large on our own screen fade in the horizon. Leaving a hazy line.


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