The Quilt

Seventeen years ago our daughter survived every parent's nightmare,  a horrendous car accident,  After spending 3 weeks in the hospital we finally brought her home.  Looking at her, barely making a lump in the hospital bed set up in the living room, I realized that I was going to have to take care of her all by myself without the constant attention of the dedicated hospital staff.  I was as terrified as I had been when we first brought her home from the hospital eighteen years earlier.  Sheer panic at the responsibility I faced kept me awake both of those "first nights".

The next weeks and months were a microcosm of those first years of raising our baby.   I bathed her, washed her hair, fixed her special foods, worried over her sleeping, jumped at every sound, and was fiercely protective.  As the days moved into weeks and she became stronger, I had to force myself to step back and let her attempt to do things "on my own".   It was no easier watching her take her first steps on crutches than it was to watch her toddle unsteadily on bowed legs as a baby.  The urge to coddle and do for her was overwhelming.  Fortunately, for both of us, my determinedly independent daughter would have none of it. 

Weeks grew into months and she was making plans to go back to college.  On crutches, under her doctors' supervision, and taking therapy, she still was determined to return to campus.  Leaving her this time was the hardest thing I have ever done.  She stood, braced on her crutches, and waved happily as we pulled away.  I returned to a home that felt achingly empty and still.   After months of dedicating my every moment to taking care of her, I was suddenly at a loss of how to fill my time. 

Wandering through Walmart on a supply buying trip my attention was caught by a kit in the craft section.  It was a quilt featuring a big "K" for her school, the University of Kentucky.  I picked it up and carried it home.  For weeks I appliqued big blue "K's" on squares, then stitched the squares together in blocks, and added a border.  I then started the laborious process of adding quilt batting and a backing.  For months I sat at night and quilted on the UK quilt for her bed.  In the meantime, she gained in strength and healing.  She moved to a new apartment, made more friends, found a boyfriend (or six or seven) and I quilted on. 

Time passed.  She thrived and my need to be constantly busy was channeled into other things and the quilt was folded away on a shelf.  She graduated from college, got a job, got engaged and then married to a guy from Iowa.  I figured she would never need a UK quilt and forgot all about it. 

Christmas she was rummaging in my sewing room looking for some material for her oldest to do some "stitching" on and she came across the quilt.  She smoothed her hand over it, slowly.  "You never finished it."  she said quietly.  "Well, I got over feeling so lonely and your life moved on ....."  I sighed.  "Can you finish it?"  she asked quietly.  I looked up at her.  With a tear in her eye she said, "I know that each stitch stands for your love.  I would treasure it forever."

Sometimes children are so rewarding.

I have to hurry.  I have a quilt to finish.