Today I finished a commissioned baby quilt. The price is a hundred bucks. This afternoon I went to a private sale by a local artisan and picked out wooden boxes and bookends to give as gifts. I spent ninety nine and change.
This morning a woman picked up the two pillows I made from her needlework. She handed me a Jackson. Soon after she left the twins helped me pick
out multiple dice online that are made on a 3-D printer. They are for their brother who likes to play D and D. My portion of the bill was twenty dollars.
Last week two people bought our songbooks to give for Christmas gifts. Thirty smackers. Ben is supposed to bring money to
school on Monday to shop for his friends. I think I'll send... thirty.
It would be possible to all just stay home and forget the criss cross of Christmas giving. But isolation is a booby prize. Maybe the recipients of the boxes and dice and pillows wanted something different under their tree.
But then again maybe the threads of intention tie us all together like strings of lights. Even if I guessed wrong at least I'm guessing.
