mineral

i wonder what she was thinking about as she tied each knot, what she wore and where she sat. with each up and down of the needle and red thread, my great grammy agnus stitched the leaves and the stems and the flowers. i wonder if she thought about the heads that would rest on this - maybe first a child, sopped in sweat from a day playing in the fields. maybe her own tired head, resting after a day of caring for the babies while my great granddad worked at the sawmill. maybe she knew that three generations later it would find its way to our bed, a place to rest at the end of a long week.