Patchwork

Life is like a quilt, isn’t it…made up of pretty bits and not-so, stitched together by time and experience. Sometimes it all comes unraveled, or so it seems. Maybe it’s just being remade. I’ve done that…taken a quilt all worn out and patched places, maybe put a new binding on it., making it useful again.

P1020072

I feel like I am being remade, patched up, rebound. Thankfully. Getting ripped apart is painful and it’s difficult to see the purpose behind it. One tends to focus on how it used to be, how pretty that quilt was, or maybe how strange, or even the ugly bits. Have you ever seen a quilt with ugly bits? If it was made of exclusively bright and lovely pieces, they would all kind of bland each other out. Too much of a good thing and all. The ugly bits make the pretty ones even nicer.

Life is like that, isn’t it…with the ugly parts making the nice ones stand out a bit.  We choose which parts to focus on. Do I want to look at the rough polyester brown parts, the arguments and hardships, or the pretty calicoes, colorful and full of delight?  Right now, it’s the lovely bits. They jump out at the strangest times.

I was sorting through the jewelry box recently, and came across my engagement ring. Due to Widow Weight Loss, it fits again. I haven’t been able to wear it for 10 years, and now I can. I remembered choosing it, at Ware’s in Auburn. Himself didn’t have much money, and the ring I really wanted was a big natural emerald that was so far beyond what he could afford I didn’t even say anything about it to him. What I chose was a dark sapphire with 4 tiny diamonds, 2 on each side, set in a split band. $275 it cost, and that was a tremendous amount to him. They let him make payments on it for a few months.  I love that ring. The memory of choosing it is a bright piece of calico.  There are many happy memories of that 6 months or so before we married…and the year leading up to it.  Now that I can wear it again, every time I look at my hand, the happy memories come back.

Last week I went to the beach with some friends…that quilt-block is probably made of something with sequins. There was a baby involved, and a loud argument over the rules of Mexican Train, and lots of sunshine.

There was a baby shower for #3’s wife and due-soon son this past weekend. About 3/4 the way through it, there was an overwhelming sense of loss, that Himself won’t be here to be Grandpop. #3 felt it too, since he won’t have his Dad to guide him through fatherhood. I can’t decide if that is an ugly brown piece in the quilt, or a bit of binding across my life-block and #3’s.

Thinking of all of this life, the last 50 years, and the central 30 years with Himself, as a quilt, each block being a separate story, it helps keep it whole. I am not coming unraveled without reason. Unraveled, yes, but only to be stitched back together into something different.Yes, it hurts, but so does anything like this.  I can’t see it, and probably never will, at least not from this earthly perspective. But, there is comfort in knowing that it isn’t random or ugly. It may be finished into something quiet and simple, and that’s ok.  Even the plain quilts have their own charm and warmth.

Advertisements

About rootietoot

I do what I can.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Patchwork

  1. Judy says:

    This is so beautifully written, it made me tear up. I think widow weight loss is the only good things that has come out of this whole horrible episode! I wish Fred could see me now–once again thin and trim like I was when he first met me. I get fat when I get happy and thin when I am not happy.

    • rootietoot says:

      I’ve always been a stress eater, so I am not sure why this is happening except that there just isn’t any pleasure in it anymore. I loved fixing him a fancy meal and sitting down to eat it, conversation and all. Now food is just a thing that keeps me from not being hungry.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s