My second son installed bars on my walls for displaying quilts. It is easy to change them with my whims, and so I do. One that is coming down today is from 1999. I remember because of the two meetings that happened around it. A dozen quilters met at a quilt shop to choose a theme for our blocks. It was very soon after Benjamin was released from the
hospital at five months of age. He was fragile, and so was I.
I gathered Benjamin and his medical paraphernalia up and started the drive along the Pasadena Freeway. Looking behind me to check on him every twelve seconds was reducing the quality of my driving. Then the little voice inside me, the one I tell people they should listen to, said, "Go on the side streets."
What? That was ridiculous. The freeway is faster and...
and...
"Go on the side streets." it repeated.
Reluctantly I steered toward the off ramp and started up California Boulevard. This blue blooded street is lined with fifty foot palm trees. The car's speed decelerated. My heart rate slowed down. On my right was a hospital where I brought flowers to a baby who later died from a small misjudgment. "At least my child is alive," I thought. Then I passed the rehab center where I had visited a
teenager who swallowed a bunch of pills. Thankfully I was not facing that.
Then my car went over a bump, and in that instant my voice said, "This is a bump."
I was outraged. How dare anyone suggest that this huge ordeal was only a bump. Harrumph.
I arrived at the quilt store, and overheard the other ladies kvetching about the traffic on the freeway. Maybe that voice
knew more than me after all. Over cookies and conversation the group settled on forest animals, and I chose a deer.
One year later the same women met to exchange the blocks we had made in the meantime. I had brought Benjamin with me again to this meeting but instead of a sickly baby he was a curious crawler, and refused to stay put. I spent most of the meeting looking for him under counters. The other women
laughed.
The blocks they brought to exchange were raccoons with patch eyes, eagles on the updraft, Canadian Geese, and black bears. They were wonderful. I gave each woman one of my deer, and we all went home to sew.
My guild had recently brought in a famous quilter who spoke about color. She told us that widening the palette of a hue makes the quilt more interesting. This inspired me to create a border around the animals that was
mostly browns, but roped in golds. Olives. Brick reds. Tans. I would never have been so brave on my own, and am very pleased with it.
The quilt reminds me that all manner of shades contribute to one overall experience.
Even my dear, Benjamin.
