Thimbles

20 Feb 2026

i wonder if my grandma thought her granddaughter would be sifting through her thimbles? all fifty of them. displayed in a wooden case, each with its own compartment. imagining granddad too, both wandering through their youth, encapsulated in concave porcelain? i remember those thimbles, hanging over their staircase, a paisley golden green threading through the wall which surrounded them. there was a sunlight which shone at them, although through dusty glass. they're now here, hanging in my brothers room. i thought he wanted them, but it turns out they were just hung there. it feels as though i'm slipping on her soul through potted fingertips. a whole lifetime. a whole souvenired safety from pricks. there really are thimbles here from everywhere, places all across the country. some i've been too, some i'm yet to see.