Soley's Quilt

Soley's quilt is finally finished, just as she is turning two. As they say, the shoemakers children go barefoot. I had been dreaming of this quilt ever since I was pregnant with her. I knew it had to be bright and have some kind of sun motif because of her name. Here is what I came up with. 

Wandered

            I have searched everywhere. She is nowhere to be found. I started by following a pattern, a grid, asking neighbors, friends, trying to retrace her steps. Then I began following my spirit. She was, is, my first love, my heart, I can feel her in my gut, my heart, my naval. I try to see without seeing, blurring my vision, not seeing with my eyes.  I should be able to pick up the scent of her, not a scent, but something allusive and ethereal like scent, like an aura, showing me the path that she took. I vibrate. No, it’s not vibration, it’s anxiety, fear, that creates this shaking. It is constant, under my skin, deep, in the muscle, imperceptible to the eye, but there, it get’s deeper as the longer this goes on. I wonder if it will go in further, into my core, my heart if I don’t find her, if she is dead. What will it feel like? Like a black hole that spreading outward or gripping pain? Or more like nothing, numbness? Never mind. She is an old woman, who wandered away from home. It is simple. Someone has to have seen her. I will find her.

The call to leave has been getting stronger. For months? Years? Yes, years I think. It started so softly. It’s so easy to dismiss these types of things. Even I who has tried to get rid of all excess chatter dismissed it. 

Crazy Quilt/Log Cabin with Batiks

Peach String Quilt using Amy Butler Fabric

I adore Amy Butler Fabrics but I struggle to find a pattern that works. I'm not sold on this one, hopefully someone else will be.

first quilt guild meeting

I finally went to my first quilting guild meeting. I’ve been trying to go for three years now at least. I could never quite make it. I was always tired from being a new teacher and mommy, and quite frankly I was intimidated. I finally went, unsure of what I would meet. Would everyone be amazing quilters and I would be hopelessly out of my league? Would they be snotty, it is after all the Proper Bostonian Quilters group. It was absolutely amazing. I was one of the only women under sixty, I was one of the only Black women there and it was absolutely wonderful. It was lovely being in women’s space. Our differences didn’t matter (for now). We had a common language of quilting. The women were warm and chatty. They acted as if they had been waiting for me (they raved about my quilts!). This must be how people feel at comic book conventions, when they leave their isolated existence as alienated nerds and finally join the fellowship of fellow costumed geeks.

A messy mess

I was looking forward to sewing some quilts that use up my left over batik strips. However all of the strips have tangled into a confusing ungodly messy mess. What is a girl to do?

The Best Idea I've every had

Just when I thought I was doomed, the idea occurred to me to hang the strips on a clothes dryer. Attagirl. (please note that they are organized in proper rainbow ROYGBIV order). Ta Da! no more mess.....until the baby finds it.

I chose her

I chose her. Not because she was special or because she had soulful, intelligent eyes, but because of all the children in the orphanage she was the one with the lightest skin and the curliest hair. No five-year-old should have the power to make this type of decision. She has made me pay for it ever sense.

At seventeen she regularly sneaks out the house. She smokes cigarettes and she goes out with men. Grown men who have been to jail. She gets letters from them on plain stationary. I sneak them to her in efforts of winning her affection. The only thing that has stayed with her from Haiti is her sense of style, her gaudiness, her penchant for weaves, tight skirts, big purses, blue eye shadow. Mom has grown ten years older in the last five years. Her face looks perpetually drawn, her brow furrowed. Dad doesn’t say much about it, he’s always been pretty stoic, but his bouts of silliness are far and few between, his attitude is always, “She’s our child, we have to do whatever needs to be done to support her.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the biggest fan of the parental units. They foisted their misplaced liberalism on us. They wouldn’t let us eat refined sugar and didn’t let us watch t.v. and we looked like freaks in front of other kids because we didn't get any of their cultural references. Vegetarian, self righteous (they always donated to n.p.r.) and left leaning, they refused to mourn when Obama was assassinated because they claimed that he didn’t do enough for Blacks.