It’s late, the Warriors lost, Giants are in the process. I’ve spent my evening hiding out from my sport teams, building a quilt. Well, cutting fabrics (with a ruler) and slapping them on the quilt wall. Today was a big day for me, improv-quilting-wise. Today I finished my first ruler-free modern quilt.
I’m not sure what I think about it; right before I added the final panel to the bottom, I was very pleased. Then once it was done, I was…. Well, uncertain is probably the best way to describe my emotions. Yet, those emotions are many layers of worth, for as I assembled this quilt, I wasn’t sure of its purpose, until two days ago, when I read about the twelve-minute 1918 animated documentary about the sinking of the RMS Lusitania. Suddenly this quilt had a meaning, metaphorically speaking. I was spurred on to complete it, well, that and the pile of low volume fabrics that have been taking up a third of my ironing board, waiting for me to get this improv quilt outta the way….
Once I finished the Lusitania quilt, I could move onto what might be my last traditionally pieced (and cut) quilt.
But more about that next week. Right now I just needed to write about this quilt; it’s not just about the Lusitania, you know. But what I didn’t know was how much it’s about my dad.
I’ll explain that in greater detail next week as well. Tomorrow is Mother’s Day, and I’m spending it with my hubby and eldest. Next week I have the pixilated heart quilt to sew together, which is yet another story but not in conjunction with my father, or not very much. But maybe everything right now touches on Dad. This is my first Mother’s Day without him, not that I call him on Mother’s Day, but when I call my mom tomorrow, someone will be missing. When I rang my parents, regardless of the reason, I always chatted with both of them, unless one was out. Now it’s different.
It’s like everything is changing, from how I quilt to whom I speak with, or don’t speak to. Grandkids are another feature, so it’s not only me celebrating. Life is funny, always rearranging itself. No yardstick, or quilt ruler, by which to denote the alterations….