We’re home from holiday; my youngest daughter married her partner whilst on vacation, so I have a new son-in-law. The wedding was small, a larger affair scheduled for next spring. This alteration isn’t due to Mom’s death, but better news; The Burrito will get a little brother before the end of this year and his folks decided to adjust their nuptials accordingly. Which means a wedding quilt is now in the works, which I officially started this morning.
Well, I began glue-basting honeycombs a couple of days ago, but now a block’s worth of paper pieces are waiting to be sewn together. Not sure if that will commence today, but at least I managed to arrange these shapes into something eye-pleasing.
Our vacation was fraught with airline mishaps, but those were set aside amid the wonder of Miss Em learning to pull herself to standing, as well as three-year-olds having a fabulous time on boat rides. In the flurry of wedding prep I was able to forget what happened in June, enjoying a brief window of life as it ever was. Coming home, I immediately went north to help pack up Mom’s house. However my siblings did a bang-up job, so instead I assisted in a new bride going through her closets and The Burrito’s wardrobe. Not only did I bring home mementos of my mother, but bags of 2 and 3T sized clothes waiting for another little one in which to romp and roam.
Some items left for me didn’t make it to Silicon Valley; I gave my father’s quilt to my youngest, as when I made it she lamented the aged fleece blanket used for the back. Upon inspection, my hand-sewing has stood the test of the last four and a half years, making me long to again hand-sew a quilt top. Right now more comforters than I can count await my machine, one of which is for an impending grandson. Fortunately that blanket won’t be more than some whole cloth quilting that I will probably do on my machine to save time.
Saving time…. That’s a funny concept as August is already half gone, this summer still feeling like I’m dwelling in an alternate universe. Glue-basting honeycombs and 1″ squares was also a part of it; what has happened to all my lovely routines? Everything’s different, and yes I know that’s a part of life but, but, but…. In checking out Dad’s quilt, I was sent back to when both of my parents were alive, no grandkids were present, The Hawk just a shell of itself. Dad’s quilt remains, my novel turned behemoth is done, a fourth nieto is on the way, and now I paper piece. My, my, my; that’s a lot of changes.
Right after Mom died, I thought about what I was grateful for, because even during a storm taking stock of the blessings matters. Goodness knows I have heaps of treasures, and I am cognizant of them. But recently I shared with some of Mom’s sisters that I feel like everything, little and large, looks as though a veil has been removed. I then expounded upon that with my youngest sister that the accompanying glare is pretty damn bright and boy I’m tired of squinting. I’m weary of all this newness, wondering for how long will the sensation last, or is this just how the rest of my life will be, constantly staring out finding yet another long-held tenet is askew. I don’t know, nor will I find that answer immediately. I suppose if I live to be an old lady, squinting won’t seem odd mostly because my eyesight will be shot. And if I do live a long time, with most of my wits about me, will I still miss my parents or might this enormous sense of loss remain?
Plenty of queries, maybe as many as the quilts waiting to be fashioned. I can’t fathom when I might write again, but it’s not like I’m aching for distractions; I’m most grateful for fabrics and thread and my ironing board. And exceedingly thankful for my family, their patience overflowing. One more is on the way, due the day before Mom’s birthday, and I’m very appreciative of that too. Maybe that’s the biggest lesson of all, saying Thank You while I still can.