My husband's great-grandmother handcrafted the linen sheet on our bed, now worn soft with time.
The top part of the sheet has intricate lace added to it, a testament to her countless hours of handiwork.
Through the lace, I saw the moonlight casting its ethereal glow upon our bed.
I paused, wondering, in the depths of her dreams, my husband's great-grandmother ever fathomed that her
creation would one day envelop her great-grandson's wife, evoking thoughts of her presence.
With a knowing smile, did she envision her great-grandchildren
and then Olivia and Gabriel cradled peacefully under her beautiful bedlinen?
The linen sheet guards sacred moments.
Harboring sweet secrets, veiling fears, and tenderly protecting as a shield
The moonlight bathes our bedroom, gently unveiling the sheet as if drawing back a curtain.
The nights seldom bring a chill; together, we slumber.
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