Patchwork

My grandmother was an extremely talented seamstress. She could make beautiful dresses, tablecloths, bedspreads...pretty much anything she put her mind to. But what made her skill really special was her ability to make these from scraps of discarded material. She had a whole cupboard dedicated to housing the cloth scraps that she collected over the course of fifty years. She had them arranged according to type, size, age and uses. And in one corner of the cupboard, were the discarded pieces...those that were just no good for even patchwork.

From the time I was six years old, I would watch her carefully pick and choose which scraps would make it to the quilt. It seemed incredible that she knew that the red would sit well next to the green. Or that the velvet would not look out of place next to the plaid. No matter how hard I tried I could not differentiate between which pieces could be salvaged; fixed to make something which was entirely new and even more beautiful than it was before, from the ones that would be discarded... only good for stuffing pillows.

I have inherited my grandmother's height, her curly hair, her short temper and even her initials. But I still lack the discernment to see what can be mended and made new again, and what should just be let go off, because it's no longer good for anything else.