Visiting Tui, a distant memory

Tui lives in a tiny clapboard house
in a small forgotten Western town
surrounded by a little yard of parched grass
a shade tree, a rusted swing set
She lives alone, she has no children
she is in her mid forties I guess.
She is my friend and visits with her are easy
she is a spinner and a weaver
she also loves to knit.
Her old Galaxie has a bumper sticker which reads
"so much yarn, so little time."
Time - hangs suspended in mid air in her cozy home
The kitchen has stainless steel sinks which line the walls to hold batches of home made dyes- indigo, onion skins and spinach greens.
The living room is a wooden spinning wheel showroom of sorts, wooden boxes hold skeins of yarn, from ceiling to floor.
The kitchen, tea and cup cozy,
ambition doesn't live here. There's no where to be, no one needed, everything is here and now.
One day while I was visiting, Tui led me to her bedroom in search of a magazine article.
Bed piled high with fat handmade quilts, warm golden carpet, sunlight.
She looks under her bed for the magazine and instead pulls out a dark wooden lock box.
Without a word, she opened it and held the certificate of commendation for me to read.
From the President of the US
A certificate of bravery and accomplishment for her Father, now deceased
For his contribution as crew on the Enola Gay