My mother called during the Christmas holidays and thanked me for giving her a hug. As we live a few thousand miles apart, I laughed and made a silly comment about my remarkably protracted arms. Mom was not to be put off by such foolishness. “It was in a dream I had,” she said. “You gave me a really long hug in my dream.”
paper, fabric, stitch, painting, and words. It was mailed last week–a little late for Christmas, but I think she and Dad will enjoy getting it nevertheless. I have a predilection, at least for the past year or so, for putting stylized wings on things. Symbolically, that could represent many interesting possibilities: the need to rise above present circumstances, a taste for more freedom, spiritual longing, to name a few.
I have also included this picture of the back, complete with the poem and a hanging cord.
There are many miles between us,
but the heart is sure, and strong,
and distance is no factor when
the heart emits its song.
With so many miles between us,
our arms can’t reach, it seems,
but they find another way to touch,
they hug you in your dreams.
May you feel held most warmly,
May your heart answer yes,
When your spirit does the sensing,
We’re as close as your own breath.
© Carol Wiebe
Of course, this poem could have been written for my sisters, as well, and all those I love who live so far from me. We do not tell each other, nearly often enough, about our deepest feelings. Express them fearlessly, I say, eschewing scorn, indifference, bafflement, embarrassment, or whatever else your passion might precipitate. (I love that word, eschew!)