When he was young, Tom’s life waited to sprout like a field of grain. Jen said hers was more like a patchwork quilt with the pattern unformed. They fell in love.
As seasons passed, Tom sowed and planned the patchwork of his farm, marking the days by the patterns of sky. Jen’s design was home and family, shapes of their lives falling into place and filling with heedless joy.
When Jen got ill, the fields contracted down to a single seed. The children wrapped their mother in a patchwork of quilts, and time was a teardrop in an inky sky.