The Quilt

When the weather starts to turn, too cool for just a sheet, not cool enough for a blanket, I drag out my old quilt. As I did so this year I thought it was looking pretty tired. It is fraying, has some holes through one layer, has some spots and is yellowing. But it is still in one piece and still does its job. My friend Betty, who is a quilter, sent me something to soak it in that took out a lot of the spots and the yellow. Smells strange but it did a nice job.

Get a new one? Not a chance. I have been dragging that quilt around all my adult life. I slept under it long ago in college. I wrapped up in it in my chilly apartment in Chicago. I still sleep under it at various times even though it is too small for the bed.

The quilt is a double wedding ring, obviously made for a double bed. I remember my grandmother pulling it from a pile of old and unused quilts in the back of the closet. She said she made it when she married. Back then they still had quilting bees as entertainment in the winter. She had one that was made of scraps, literally, a hodgepodge of fabrics and shapes. Many scraps had someone’s name embroidered on them. It was interesting but some of the scraps were wool and my skin doesn’t like wool. So I ended up with this quilt.

My grandmother married on January 19, 1910, over 100 years ago. I should look as good as the quilt when I am that age.

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