The thread on the border of the fabric painting of Mount Fuji—stitched so many years ago, so many oceans away—has held the scene together longer than I’ve been alive. And on this uneventful morning, the soft rain makes the oak outside my window dip enough for the early light to stream across the braided mountain hanging on my wall. Now the thread on the border swells with the sun and seems for the moment the source of all strength. Then the sun steps higher in the sky, and the thread that holds all things together goes back to work.
A Question to Walk With: Tell the story of a moment when light revealed something you hadn’t seen or felt until the light brought it to you.
This excerpt is from my book, Things That Join the Sea and the Sky, published by Sounds True.
*Photo Credit: Jenna Beekhuis
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