I think I'm finished with mending this old quilt.
It's on our bed, helping us through the winter nights.
I've put strips of white velvet to cover the worn out edges.
Velvet is now the first thing you touch when you pull the blanket up,
and if your hand strays a bit over the surface, it finds a velvet egg shape the size of an adult hand.
Just the right size to make you think, eyes shut,
in the middle of the night, that the whole thing is velvet.
That you are covered over with softness.
It's very luxurious. It's dreamy.
I didn't use a pattern to organize the large dotted mends.
I just began covering the worn out cloth, hole by hole.
I think it might be art.
I know that it's a dream cloth.
It's thick and puffy,
unusual for me.
I put new cloth into an old worn out thing with the intent of giving it new life.
Egg shapes. Bright colour. Easter stories.
Eggs symbolize the greatest of mysteries.
Last year, when the pandemic was still young and there was so much fear,
I mended this same white whole cloth quilt's other side with a layer of wool batt
and a layer of silk fabrics dyed with avocado stones.
I just laid them over the wrecked quilt and followed the blue stitching lines to attach them.
We have been sleeping very well because of this quilt.
We feel cared for.
It is unusual for me to make such large marks without planning their placement on a design wall.
I found the holes to cover one at a time with the quilt in my lap.
I had to trust.
I can't be afraid.
I am unafraid.
The problems we are facing in this world are so large. They are immense.
I am so sorry.
I want to work and work and mend and mend.
I want to bring softness and hope to our lives. Our ordinary lives. Our precious lives.
My hands help me let my heart out unblocked by my mind.
I need to be immediate. I need to cover big areas with softness and newness and touch.
I am connecting something old to something new and I am being brave and it is becoming gentle.
And my love is poured out upon the earth.
Gaea