I stitch and tell the little boy that we might need to prepare ourselves as things may not work out. He tells me to be hopeful. I am, but I am also shaken enough to know that she is near a dangerous precipice. I sent her little boy to her bedside. Now, my little boy and I sit together watching It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. A TV special I've watched dozens of times, always with a craving for a snack cake. Vince Guaraldi plays the cheery jazz melodies from World War I for Snoopy's flying ace scenes-- It's a Long Way to Tipperary. My doughboy knows that and a few more. Heck, he taught me to sing the words, and I've been watching that special since at least 1976.
We sing to keep away unpleasant, unproductive thoughts, swirls around my head. No wonder the tunes are catchy, they have to be for soldiers. So I stitch for little boys, for the ones who make me feel hopeful, even on a grim night and hear joyful melodies in my head long after the show is over.