To You … With Love,

I smoothed out the wonderful crocheted doily and laid it carefully upon my mahogany coffee table. Marveling at its pure whiteness that had held true for so many years, I thought of the small hands which had so gently maneuvered the needles and threads to create an enduring piece of beauty for someone she loved. It was a hard world for the women of my grandmother’s generation. Yet, there always seemed to be a simple plan running through it. Small, perhaps, to what we call our new mornings, but Monday was wash day, Tuesday ironing day and Wednesday was the day of fresh bread and it caused time t...