I wrote this post in the car yesterday on the way home from my sisters. I’ve been having trouble writing these days for some reason. This isn’t that great of a post, but, I’ve been told to “just write” and not care how good/bad it is. OK, then that’s what I’ll do! 🙂
I always comment about how the Universe works. It’s been working on me again. An old flame has been calling to me. Begging for my attention, whispering in my ear, asking for me. My Mom mentioned it first…then my daughter blew on the coals a little with her own creations these past weeks…I received an email from a friend reminding me of the rendez-vous coming up soon…and then, this weekend, the flames grew hotter as the love affair blossomed again.
I caressed the softness of ones I’d loved long ago when I’d first created them. Funny that they were both just lying there for me to pickup and touch again, and my sister introduced me to new ones that she had created and loved also. My fingers traced the lines; trained eyes measured and calculated and fell in love again with the colors of Autumn. My body felt the warmth of layers wrapped around and my heart quickened and fluttered as I remembered all those that had come before.
Quilting is a love I discovered during a difficult time in my life. It was a time where I was hesitant to do something for me. Self-care was “taboo” and “selfish”. Every one of those first creations were created with love for others; but, in truth, they were created for me.
From the beginning, each stitch carefully placed, each fabric touched and selected were healing me. Giving me comfort. Stroking the back of my hand. They were the permission I needed to give myself to Creation again. To believe that I had talent. To believe that I had something to offer. The hours that I’d spend on them to give to those I loved was so freeing. I gave them willingly; knowing they were appreciated and loved. Finally! I wasn’t disappointing anyone! It felt so very good!
But the love affair grew far beyond that. I began to think of it as a quiet comfort; a place of rest. Not for anyone else, just for me. I touched fabric and threads with the tenderness of a lover; picturing patterns and combinations as they danced through my mind.
Sometimes, I would think of someone to make it for, but now, sometimes too, I think of how I will love it. How I will wrap it around me and feel its warmth. How I will use a small one to adorn a wall for me to see something beautiful made with my own hands. To be proud of what I have done.
In the past year, I have strayed from this love; not needing it as much as I used to. Finding new loves to fuel my passions. But that love has remained. Ever faithful, ever vigilant. Waiting. Watching. Bringing comfort when I call.
I hear it now…I breathe softly on those embers and feel the flame grow. Surrounding me. Protecting me. Holding me. Keeping me. Rekindled Love.