life, squared

I am a square, and you are a square, sewn together by red thread. 

Sometimes we forget that we only need to fit together along one side. One square cannot complete all the sides of another. It's geometrically impossible, without enveloping the other. We don't need to be the same colour or the same pattern; we can be total opposites and that's okay, too. We're just two squares, in the end, and we alone do not make the design. 

This morning is a square and the words you said yesterday at breakfast are a square and what happens tomorrow afternoon will be a square, and all we have to do is run our fingers over them and appreciate that they are here, no matter whether we think they fit. They are sewn to us. We are sewn to them. We are sewn to each other and to the people we love and to people who don't know us and to the people next door who climb their trees and throw pinecones over the fence at us. We cannot unpick our seams. Nor should we try.