“What are you up to today?” friends often ask. I usually respond “not much”, or “nothing new” or “groundhog day”. For some odd reason, it feels like nothing. But it’s the tick tick tick of moments, a stitch by stitch process, a needle by needle momentum. This small purple piece was begun as my mother was dying. It was a tick, tick, of a heart. It was finished after she died. After her last tick. Tick. Tick. Time. Passing. Passing. Gone.