Patchwork

Take your needle, my child, and work at your pattern; it will come out a rose by and by. Life is like that - one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out all right... ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

I have an affinity to blankets.

Regardless of the weather -- be it so bitterly cold so that icicles drip from my eyelashes...

...or agonizingly hot to the point that I want for nothing more than to dive into a pool of the clearest and wettest water...

...a blanket is my closest companion, perfect for a moment curled on the couch while watching a favorite Jane Austen movie, or sprawled on my bed with a treasured novel.

I have one such woven sidekick in particular.

It is an old quilt that my grandmother made for me when I was twelve years old...and it has indeed seen many better days.

It is ragged in some spots from continuous use, speckled with tears and faded spots from childhood ailments and teenage broken hearts.

The patches have patches of their own now, and what was once a beautiful hand-stitched offering of love is now a much-loved threadbare scrap of cloth.

But oh, how I still love each thread and each patch.

It's a story of my life, a glimpse at scraped knees and first middle school crushes...

...photographs woven in cloth of late-night sleepovers and summertime picnics.

No matter how torn it becomes, or how much it continues to fall apart, I will never have the heart to send it packing to the dustbin.

It is my legacy.

A legacy in cloth.