I make myself a cup of tea and light a candle. Two legs, two arms, a small thumb, a sharp ellbow, a round knee. Under the fabric, my fingers feel the slightest bump and with a sigh, I find myself starting all over again until the limbs are how I want them to be. Smooth, yet firm and heavy. I pin and baste, I stitch and sew. Late in the evening, when the candle has almost burned out, two arms and two legs are finished. I put more wood on the fire and let the tea kettle sing me a lullaby.