lately, i've been waking up in the middle of the night. i love the silence and lonely darkness. but i can only wait to fall back to sleep for so long. the moon usually makes long, leafy shadows on the wall above the bathtub. and sometimes i can hear the rustle of animals knocking over garbage cans. or raccoons crying in the trees around the house. and if the wind is strong, the branches scrape across the roof. if i don't fall asleep in 15 or 20 minutes, i read myself back to sleep. there are usually cats on our bed. and my husband asleep beside me. so, i pull the covers over my head, with my book and my little reading light. and there is a glowing tent where i feel like i'm 8 years old again, with a pilfered flashlight and archie comics that were hidden under my mattress, tented in my bed long after i was supposed to be asleep. with the same moon spreading different braches across different walls. but more alike than different. i love the same things about it now, as i did then. the sheets are exagerated folds. i can hear each breath i take. and it seems like no one on earth knows where to find me. until i want to be found. and reading just seems sweeter when you are hidden away in a duvet tent.
the quilts i make blend a grandmother's ideals with a fresh youthful flair. there is a nostalgia for seasons past combined with hopefulness for a bright full future. I write little stories in my mind as I make the quilts. sometimes they become actual stories. and sometimes I share them here.
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