After a week of working full time in the infirmary, nursing my 8 year old through a wicked winter flu, I am so happy to be sitting in my studio and stitching. I love being a mother but I am not a gifted nurse. I do far to much wringing of hands, touching forehead, concocting kitchen get well cures and forcing them on my patient, rearranging bedding, staring into the patient’s flushed face seeking unknowable answers... I am the harried nurse, constantly glancing at my get well watch, and second third fourth guessing my decision to call or not call a doctor. When my daughter awoke bright eyed and energetic after 6 days of illness, I literally felt my whole being unclench. I suppose I should be asking myself just why I struggle in that role, but for now I am just happy to strap on my artist wings and fly a while.