By now it was very late. The evening was coming to a close and we had heard only one story. This happens. The elderly madame was getting ready to leave. She had lived a long time. I wished I had heard her story. She had worked intently on her story rope. What was her story? I would not get to hear it.
I sat with her a few minutes at the end. The madame spoke only French so with limited translation available, I told her I was so glad she came. I gave her postcards of the quilts I had shown the group. The cards would be a token of thanks for coming and a remembrance of our evening together.
I love hearing the stories of the elderly. They have lived through so much history. I still regret that I missed her story.
For all posts: Story Ropes in Paris.
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