Because Kitty always showed me her tapestries before they were done, I saw the intricate weave up close, how the plants and the fingers of sunlight came together, the scarlet and the emerald and the deep blue sky something of a treasure.
Was this why Kitty was so wise?
Was this why Kitty was so sad?
Did she see the way the world came to together, see it up too close and personal? I knew her for many years, and she taught me many things. The things I learnt at Kitty's house you can't learn from a classroom or at a job. Things like how to see the colour of people's moods, and that if there is little butter spread it to the edges first.
I knew Kitty for a long time but I never knew her well. She used the same words as me but in a different language. I loved her all the same.
When people came to Kitty's house they were stripped bare of pretence, rudeness, pretend confidence. Their true selves emerged because their true selves would always be respected here. Here in Kitty's house.
So this is where they came after a wedding or a death, jubilant after a victory, frustrated after a fight. And the smell of wax and lavender and basil and grass would bring out the words, tumbling torrents into the calm. So Kitty saw everything... everything.