When I was about five years old, I got a beautiful sweater for Christmas. That was a bit odd because we didn’t get clothes for Christmas, back then…only panties and hankies.
It was mauve, my mom’s favourite colour for me to wear and it was itchy, very, very itchy. Nevertheless, I wore it often because it was beautiful and I loved it.
One day, I discovered a piece of wool sticking out, so I tugged on it, and broke it off. After the next washing I noticed there was a small hole, but it was on the back where I couldn’t see it, and so I wore it because it was so beautiful AND I LOVED IT. In time there was another piece of wool poking through and I pulled on it. Before my eyes, strand after strand of wool unravelled and I couldn’t stop pulling and picking. It was fascinating- so orderly. Finally there was a big hole and I had a pile of ugly, curly wool that my mom said could possibly be made into a scarf. I was inconsolable.
I hadn’t meant to do that. I had destroyed the “fabric” of a favourite, beautiful thing.
I had forgotten about this kid story until today when I find myself similarly distressed, watching the PQ government picking and pulling at the beautiful fabric of our Province.