A long time ago, before I lost you for the last time , I used to mend your clothes. You became so attached to the things that you l oved . S o, l ike most of the things you owned then, your clothes were worn, not through age but constant use. I had always been very practical in my approach towards life, so when I saw them hanging up in your wardrobe the day you came to stay at home, it was a very natural reaction to want to fix them and make them new again. I started right away, concentrating on just a few items : your jack et, your jeans. You seemed unsure at first, I think you’d grown to like the holes and the tattered, soft edges. But my meticulous needle work paid off when I saw that the clothes I had stitched made you stand a little taller. So I continued, and it became an occupation, a distraction from the unbearable truth that I could not fix you. I suppose I just wanted to do something, anything. It was my own, feeble attempt to help you in the only way I knew how. You rarely... (read more)