quilts bring comfort

I’ve mended my husband’s quilt, as much as I can.  It’ll never be displayed at a quilt show, but, it gives me comfort anyway.  I’m STILL waiting on fabric for my memory quilt.  I’m eager to get to work on it though.  I’ve kinda changed my premise though insofar as I plan to make two memory quilts now.  One for my childhood, which will focus entirely on people I’ve lost, and one for my marital homes, which will include places (my late husband’s business, his friends’ businesses, the place we met, our neighbors’ tree farm, etc) hobbies (construction, music, horseback riding) pets (horses, cats, dogs) and people (both living and dead).  I’m going to work on the latter quilt first, I’m tentatively calling it “The Comforts From Home” with the idea that on a bad day I can wrap up in it and feel the comforts of my former homes, even though much of what I loved about them is gone.  It’s not a “conventional” memory quilt, as I plan to use all new but representative fabrics in it, rather than cutting apart my husband’s clothing (I’ve wanted to make one, I’m just not ready yet to slice through his clothes).  All the same, I’m eager to make this tribute to our love and homes. It makes me almost happy to be able to create a lasting (hopefully longer than my lifetime) tribute that shows the people and places that matter to me, even though they are gone.  There will be concrete proof that they existed and were loved, even if it wasn’t nearly for as long as we could have wished.  Maybe by having something to hold on to, in a back assward way, it will let me let go without fear that if I stop remembering they will vanish.  Being the last one alive who remembers is both a blessing and a burden.

Happy Valentine’s Day,

1437

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