It’s a place all her own where she can gaze out of the window and watch the birds in the garden. A room where memories linger and half-finished crochet blankets lay stacked in baskets waiting for her to finish and pack off as gifts for those she loves and feels the need to keep warm.
I’ve been working on this room for weeks now, never finishing… constantly rearranging, wanting everything to be just right when she returns, her journal tossed on the blanket right where she left it.
