Owen brought his name blanket with him on Monday when he came to spend the night. He told me there was a tear in it and that he wanted me to fix it.
"The love can get out if there's a hole," he said.
I took needle and thread and found the little place where stitching had not held and bound it up neatly and surely.
I do not want one bit of love to ever get out. Never.
Even if it could.