In my travels, I frequently encounter
vast fields of cotton basking in the sun. It always makes me smile, knowing those tiny little cotton bolls filled
with millions of tiny little cotton fibers may some day end up in my hands.... I long to know what
wondrous form they will take. Of course, it could be a simple cotton ball, a pair of jeans, a dish towel. Or,
it could be the smooth cotton thread that travels intricately through the tension and guides of my sewing machine.
Or, since this is my
fantasy, I always envision it as a gorgeous batik fabric, that finds its way from this soil into my local quilt shop,
and from there into my loving hands, where I'll have the privilege of listening to it whisper its longings to me.... to
me. It cleaves itself to my rotary cutter, yields to my iron, and and undergoes yet another metamorphosis.
And we are both transformed in the process.
So, grow, little cottons, grow..... I'll see you again soon....