I started machine quilting with red thread in both the bobbin and on top in a free motion pattern. My thoughts meandered like the stippling line, and I remembered some of the quilts I made twenty years ago that were held together with a sparse amount of tying, or inadequate quilting in the ditch. It was the best I knew at the time, but it did not make for longevity. Most of them fell apart. 

Then the spool on top ran out. I rummaged through my supply and found embroidery thread in the right color, but it is meant for a different purpose and breaks easily. There was a half a spool of orange, but it did not belong in this color scheme. I tried the embroidery thread anyway. After twelve breaks and rethreading episodes in five minutes I went back to the basket to look for stronger thread. Sewing when everything works is relaxing. When the thread snaps repeatedly frustration creeps in.  

The fabric for a twin sized quilt can top a hundred dollars, if you buy premium yardage and have no coupons. It is ten or eleven yards plus a batt. But if you skimp on the thread, it undoes all your effort to keep warm, when the pieces come apart. 

The process of quilting reminds me of commitment in marriage. It keeps the layers together in a way that holds up over washing, thrashing sleepers, and time. The quilt top itself may be lovely and well pieced, but if there are not thousands of tiny stitches running through it, it stays as three separate layers, not one quilt. 

Taking apart a quilt that is quilted is not easy. I have had to it when there was a fabric that bled, or I bought an antique that needed repairs. A relationship that is made permanent by commitment is harder to take apart too. 

Some couples go so far as to have a covenant marriage, which is harder to disassemble when things try to unravel. 

I stopped musing and jumped in the car. I bought the priciest brand of red they had, and I didn't even have a coupon.