Blue Jean Quilt

I hate moving. Heavy furniture, aching backs, and stairs have been my enemy over the last few days and will continue to be. But the silver lining is the bittersweet moments that certain parts of packing inevitably lead to. Remembering why my room (now nearly empty) has purple walls. Finding my memory box and leafing through it, reminiscing about high school, salt and vinegar chips, and even the pocketwatch. Packing flannel shirts in the closet and the memories of getting them back after being "stolen". But the one memory that I plunged into today was when I packed the blue jean quilt.

I remember my mom making the quilts. Mine was blue and thin, but the warmest blanket I ever slept under. Angie's was pink. I think I was 4 when we got them, and I held on to mine for years, into my thirties. I passed mine to John-Michael, but it was tattered and worn. I had every square saved, though, and vowed that someday I would have her fix it. It disappeared a couple of years ago (pretty sure it was tossed by someone who never understood what it meant to me). In November of 2008 I asked Mom to make me a new one, and she said she would. Of course we lost her in January of 2009 before she had the chance. But last year, when going through her things with my sister and dad, we opened a tote in the basement. Mom loved totes and she put everything in them. As we opened this particular one, tears welled up in my eyes as I saw the contents. The large, heavy blue jean quilt she had made for herself was in that tote. I picked it up and pulled it close to my face. I could still smell her on the blanket, and it brought a sense of comfort to me. We all shared a laugh and a cry and closed it up.

A few days later, as I packed the car to leave, my Dad presented me several items that belonged to Mom. A couple of her infamous christmas village figures (she had a massive collection). My memory box full of photos. And the blue jean quilt. It meant the world to me, and I took it home. Today, I opened that tote again, to the same feeling I had when we saw it in Illinois. Sure I have slept under it a few times, as have the boys. But I always put it neatly back where she had it.

As I prepare to embark on lifes next journey, it is comforting to take the simple things along to keep me humble and grounded. A gold pocket watch. A vase of dried roses. And my moms blue jean quilt. Thanks mom, you are never far away.

Gotta go to Findlay, Ohio tomorrow to pull a couple third shifts for work. After that I am back here, finishing the move. Good Night everyone

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My 9/11 memory

Wake me up when June ends

One body of awesomeness