My Mother's Rememberence Quilt

In my effort to seek joy last week, my best friend and I got together to start making the top for an adorable lap quilt. Over the course of the afternoon, I shared the story of how I had gotten into quilting in the first place. The more I thought on it, the more I wanted to share it.

My mother passed away when I was five-months pregnant with HoneyGirl. I had the emotional task of cleaning out her apartment. In one closet, I found a bag full of fabric, a pattern torn from a quilt magazine with a post-it that said "Quilt for Angela's new home." At the time, I was far too emotional to do anything other than put it all in a tote and put it in my basement.

A few years later, when Buzz had morning kindergarten, I found myself with two hours of quiet every day while HoneyGirl took a nap. I was at a place in my life where I could finally deal with the reality of her death, and as such, took out the tote. I knew nothing of quilting at that time. I laboriously cut every block with scissors. I knew nothing of stripping things together for quicker sewing; I did each block one at a time. The results were often uneven, but in each piece I spent time remembering my mother.

Thanksgiving came, and I packed it all away so we could use the dining room table. The Christmas holidays came and went, and I was still a bit too raw to bring it out to finish. MOnths turned into years, and I got a newer better machine and took a few quilting classes. I thought about taking it out a few times, and saw all the imperfections of my prior work and didn't have the heart to start over. So it sat.

But last week, when I shared the story with my friend who knew my mother well, I realized that the imperfections were exactly how the quilt should be. My mother was equal parts wonderful and disaster, if I am to be honest. How I loved her, and how she loved me. Perfection had nothing to do with our relationship.

I pulled it out again the next day, this time smiling as I worked to finish the backing and binding. Honey came down and listened to stories about my mom while I worked. We both realize that all she will know of her is pictures and these stories, and this quilt is a such a great rememberence. All that is left is to finish quilting through all layers with floss, and Honey is game to help with that work. I can hardly wait for fall, to snuggle under it by the fire.