A Cushion Whose Time Has Come...

This cushion is a very long time in the making; almost a year in fact. When all of Jack's things were packed away, to be discarded or donated, this shirt escaped the cull. Washed and worn, then washed again, almost to the point of transparency, this was Jack's favourite shirt. This is the shirt I washed a hundred Sunday gravy spills from, replaced a dozen popping buttons on, and which told tales on Jack when he came back from town with a big resplendent jam stain down the front. 'Who? Me? Eating doughnuts? Of course not!'

I packed and unpacked this shirt many times in Jack's last year, in and out from hospital as he was, and finally laid it aside, when the time came to spend the last week at home, in pyjamas. There are many years and many stories woven into this old shirt; how could it be thrown away?

So now it sits on Anne's bed, to remind her of her Swiddy. It even bulges a bit! Bad sewing or an accident of perfect appropriateness? Fat Boy would have laughed! :)