Today I hung one of my mom’s quilts. It was stitched from hundreds of tiny scraps of fabric, no two alike. Every seam took planning, precision, and care.
As I stood back and saw it on the wall, tears came. I miss her. But in this quilt, she’s here. Present in every cut, every stitch, every choice of color.
It struck me how much quilts are like books.
- Pieces → fragments of memory, research, or imagination.
- Threads → the connective lines that hold it all together.
- Patterns → the design that emerges only after time and patience.
- Legacy → something that outlasts us, carrying our voice forward.
My mom’s quilt is her proof of work. Our writing is ours. Both are ledgers of love.
💜
👉 Do you have an object (like my mom’s quilt) that connects you to your past and inspires your writing today? Share it with us.