I’ll Never Quilt Again

 

I said I’d never quilt again. And here I am, only a few months after making that vow, quilting up a storm.  Once again.  I had started a quilt several years ago, and it sat  half-completed in pieces for at least five years.  Every time I opened the closet door, I saw all these lovely colorful fabric squares: unloved, unfinished.  I finally decided to finish the quilt before there was any more psychic energy lost to that incomplete project.  I did it.  I sat down and powered through the damn quilt.  Was it fun?  Not really—it was more grit my teeth and finish. Is it great now that it’s done?  Absolutely!

So, why am I making another quilt, so soon after I promised I’d never make another one, after all the guilt I felt for not finishing that project?  (Have you ever noticed how “quilt” and “guilt” look basically like the same thing?) At the quilt shop, I saw a sample quilt hanging on the wall. As soon as I saw the possibilities for this wild cacophony of color and pattern, I knew I needed to make one. It’s made of scraps, just thin strips of fabric, those unloved bits, the left overs.

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Here’s what I’ve got so far…16 lovely squares.  I’ve been making one each day.  Just one a day…a little progress, so that I don’t shove it in a box in my closet, so I don’t curse at it and beat myself up because I can’t finish what I started.

I’m finding it therapeutic to make my daily square.  It’s a chance to step away from a day full of words, words, and more words. And instead, do something with no words, only shapes, colors, patterns and the hum of the sewing machine.

I think I’m going to finish this one in no time at all.