Today I pulled out an old quilt I've been working on. Almost three years ago a friend of mine meet someone and I knew they were going to get married. As always I pulled out my fabrics and started piecing together a quilt. As fate would have it we parted. I have spent the last two and a half years pulling this quilt out to work on it, and then putting it away again.
I work on it little by little. A small piece here or there. I grab my box of threads and match up the red of a heart to the brightly colored background. Finding my thimble, slowly I begin to stitch. The tread pushing through the fabric, pulled tight on each side.
The back shouldn’t matter, nobody but me will ever see it. Still I want it to be perfect. This was after all for him.
I can’t begin to explain how beautiful he was. Long blond hair, silky smooth. I envied him that hair. Mine, as you may see, is rather thin and dry.
I would reach over and pull one of those hairs from the quilt top, taking a moment to stop and look down at my work. Nice I would think to myself. I always think I do a good job, but I can see all the little imperfections in it. But it is mine.
This of course would get me to reminiscing about the good old days. Those days where we would hang out, go out to eat or go for a long drive. We would talk for hours. I would tell him everything. I trusted him with my life, and at that time I believed he trusted me with his. I thought he would always be there. Then one day he was gone. I was no longer wanted.
I have come to realize just how much hope is in my heart. I know now that every time I threaded the needle I was letting myself believe that someday there would be a reason for that quilt to be finished. I saw the stitches emerging into patterns and found myself believing that there is thought to the madness of life. I saw how each stitch combined to create the whole.