by Shannon Penrod
Our Grandmother’s sat around a quilt; as their needles dove repeatedly into finely colored cloth they shared advice, recipes and compassion. It was the way they connected, it was a circle of women. When the quilt was done, they had ever so much more than a quilt. They had woven friendships, survived hardships and held on to each other.
I don’t quilt, but I do have a circle of women. We are connected through a spark that travels from my keyboard, tours the world and comes back to me within a millionth of a second. 
Before I was a Mom, I am sure I took my circle of women for granted. It seemed like my birthright. Perhaps it is. But now I treasure it.Â
There is no greater role than being a Mom. Being a Mom both isolates you and welcomes you to a wider circle. I appreciate that I can get on my computer at 7 am and ask my Mother how many days egg salad will keep, while answering an email from my friend Natasha about where to buy a Lego separator. Then I can send an email to my friend Sandra who is grieving for her two dogs who have died within 6 weeks of each other. My niece sends me an email with a video of the latest commercial she produced, my other niece sends word that she has finished her last class towards her PhD. My nephew sends a sonogram picture of his unborn child. And my high school friend Phyllis sends word that her mother, a great woman, a superior mother, has died.Â
The circle closes in. Cyber hands hold tight. Emails of love and support and encouragement are exchanged.
There are no needles piercing fabric, just words and pictures soothing hearts. There is no tangible quilt at the end. But the song of friendship is woven none the less.
