She struck a pose.
Connie is telling her life story through patchwork. A square for each thought. Each, a special word. A day. A memory. She said it will be her gift to the world.
I wish I could remember her words exactly:
"Some squares will be dark as night; cruel and lonely; a child stumbling upon infinite sadness that nobody should ever know. Nobody. But the patch in the center is perfect. It is light blue and soft with an ocean of pearls. The one in the center is where I hide and is my greatest gift to you. It is an oasis."
I told her I'd like her to be the patch on my quilt for today. She liked that.
"Art is everywhere; don't you think?" I asked her.
"Absolutely, " she agreed as she sliced the air with her bouquet, "Art is everywhere."