From the soft and generous curls of the baby's blanket came his cheeky face, peaking outward as if he knew some secret that sparkled day and night.
The baby blanket looked for all the world as if it were a scene from a garden, with flowers, vegetables, bees and birds - as if the fabric itself welcomed the child into the natural world, their spirits rejoined.
The baby blanket had survived all those years, the bonny yellow fabric with its edges stitched in deep blue yarn. To sew it had been an act of love, of friendship, a gift that was truly an emotional bond - a gift of the self.
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