I finished my fourth Storm at Sea quilt. Her name is Chocolate. The shades that contribute depth include chestnut, khaki, sienna, ochre, wheat, and a word in my granddaughter's board book that I did not recognize, umber. The binding fabric is corduroy, which will add a tactile pleasure on a chilly day.
Two of the bunch are already sold and on someone else's bed, which may mean I need to keep cutting. There are five commissions for other designs in the queue but winter holds enough hours in which to play.
I posted photos on social media as I went along. After the first set of 16 blocks, which are called snail's trail and provide motion, there were a string of comments. A few people suggested that I ditch the very dark brown, and the geometric print.
But I liked them.
The other day I was listening to a friend whose husband suffered from dementia before he died. Perhaps she suffered more than he did. There were some very dark days in the past couple of years. Patterns that worked for getting him to comply, and others that didn't. Sometimes when she finally got him tucked into bed he would look up at her, not quite sure who she was.
"You're a good one," he would say.
My friend was weary from many months of caring for a man she had hoped would be an equal partner. Now he was gone, leaving her with decisions, and long lines at social security. She was not feeling particularly secure.
"I wish I could see the big picture. How it all fits together." Her voice was wistful. She believes in God, but the storms have left her out to sea.
My prayer is that she will be able to step back and see how even the dark parts contribute to her story. Not this month or even this year. But perhaps a long time from now, when the exhaustion has faded and her routine has recovered, she will feel loved.
