Beautiful poem. The fabric metaphor works so well.

Oh, Jane Ann--this one has me in tears. The poem is lovely, and the memory of your grandmother strikes home. As you know from my posts, I grew up in the house with my maternal grandparents. My granddad died when I was quite young, but my grandmother lived on, and on. In fact, she outlived my mother, who was on the verge of giving up trying to care for her at home when she herself became very ill with cancer. A place in the nursing home opened up while my mother was hospitalized (her last days), and she just couldn't bring herself to make the decision. So it fell to me to move my grandmother after my mother died. I was living three hours away, divorced, teaching, with two sons still at home. It was an awful solution, but it was the only one I could make. My grandmother lived nine years after my mother's death, a sadness she never got over. She never forgave me, either, for being the one to uproot her. Thanks for sharing this poignant story and giving me a chance to tell this part of mine. We have this in common, too. (Plus, I noticed a September birthday mentioned in another post!)

I love the poem! I am living through this now with my grandmother and mother. My Mamaw will turn 90 on her birthday and my mother 70. Mom bought the house next door to the one she grew up in to move her mother into when she needed to be closer, and although she complains everyday about the task of taking care of her mother I know she wouldn't ahve it any other way. Her older brother has very little to do with his mother, sadly. The time fast approaches where I will be in those shoes and I live 8 hours away, right now, maybe further when time comes. I am impressed with the group of ladies you have doing this challenge. =)