Ocean Baby Tapestry

Elizabeth of Denmark wears clogs in her garden where she tends to her flowers. The soil slips into her apartment, where it meets the smell of freshly poured coffee, buttery toast and Cuban cigars.  She listens to Maria Callas on the radio, and when visitors come, she turns the volume up.

Sometimes after autumn, she floats away from her garden towards the North Sea.  She follows the seagulls and the otters and she splashes her feet in the icy water.  When her shoulders dip right under, she shudders with delight and she waves at the tourists close by.  She drinks a warm whiskey, enjoys the stunning wild blue sky and she smiles.

“The seasons help us remember” she tells you one Sunday afternoon, and it’s a phrase that you’ve never forgotten.

Bethany of Cambodia sits in the market place weaving textiles.  She is shaded from the sun by the iron rooftop of the restaurant.  She wears a single silver ring on the toe of her right foot, while her left foot keeps the loom working, moving in motion to the rhythm of the day.  Decades of this hand-work make it unnecessary for her to watch her creation, which is why she and her bare-feet have time to look away.

Sometimes after autumn, she walks away from the market place towards the forests of the north and the cool damp grass beneath her.  She runs like a young girl, slowly and unsure of her limbs, but gaining in speed.

Gaining in magic.

She skips through the jungle, jumps through the trees, splashes through the water-fall and when the morning dew cleans her face, she says to you, “the seasons help us to remember”.

And it’s a phrase that you find, that you cannot forget.

“I’m sorry” says Elizabeth, “we didn’t take great care of it, and for that I apologise.  We knew it was broken but we turned away our blind eyes, danced and ignored it.  We left the lights on for far too long, and we kept the windows open”.

“It’s alright”, replies Bethany, “while there were sins there was decency also.  You worried about your loved ones.  You listened for opportunities and protected your young. You held the hands of the weaker ones, and you valued the moon. 

Your compassion isn’t finite and your kindnesses are not full.  We live together in this tiny ocean, this baby tapestry, wound-up in the same string, and our paths cross constantly.  You can feel sore and sorrow, and those seasons will, one day, help us to remember”.