The Quilt- Part II

The quilt was just as I left it, even had a threaded needle working around one of the hearts that decorate it. It was a little musty, but a good airing on a bright, windy May day helped that substantially. Spray fabric freshener took care of the rest. 

I spread it out on my bed, the only place that could accommodate it without the cat rolling in it, or everybody walking on it.  Other than being a little wrinkled, it was still in good shape. It's hard for bugs and moisture to penetrate those Rubbermaid containers!

Spring can really hang you up the most, as the song goes. It just brings to mind all sorts of good resolutions, I think more than New Years Day. It's the loss of the snow, the blooming of the perennials, the sudden warmth, the smell of the soil as it loosens and dampens. Suddenly, a person is losing weight and planting herbs and OH MY GOODNESS let's finish this quilt! 

That was my intention that beautiful May day, to finish the quilt. I would get it ready for Christmas. I would send it to Madame's ersatz sister-in-law's address, as I have no permanent address for Madame. And even if she took a pair of little pointy embroidery scissors to it and yanked out every thread; even if she took a huge pair of pinking shears to it and cut it into scraps; even if she ripped it apart with her bare hands, destroying my hard work over a 13 year period, on and off; even then, I could at least express that while I don't agree with her, I love her, more than she will ever realize.

Spring can really hang you up. 

The quilt is back in a container, this one bigger to accommodate the size of it, so it doesn't wrinkle so much. I did get the back on it, so none of the batting is exposed. I finished that heart I'd stopped awhile back, and several others, and am on a new heart, when I can resume it.

The kids looked at it. Belle said, "It's a very pretty quilt" and left it at that. Baby was more adamant. "Why are you working on a quilt this nice for somebody who seems to hate your guts?" The Mister held his tongue, for like Belle, he avoids unnecessary confrontation, only when it is necessary, and then stand back.

I worked on the quilt, here and there, as I had time. I have a little more time now; not much, but some more time. The kids are older. May and part of June were idyllic, very restful, no running to meet deadlines for classes of various varieties. I once spent a good part of a Monday while the Mister taught a seminar, double-checking the construction, making sure nothing was loose or sloppy, then stitching around the hearts, all by hand.

That was a couple weeks ago. That was before I found out Madame had finally married her live-in boyfriend. That part was OK. If it had only been the marriage,I would have continued working on the quilt, and in fact started a new one for the happy couple. Despite my better judgment, I actually hold no grudges (at present) against my new son-in-law. I don't know him, how can I? 

It was, in my searches to check on Madame and guard these children against any action, that I discovered she is now "friends" with my ex-husband and his sister, her biological father and aunt. If he had been more of a father to her, instead of the man declared unfit by a court, I might actually be happy for both of them. If his sister had not been the woman who suggested I have abortions of both my elder children as a sound financial move, and who trashed me to a good friend, I might again be happy for them.

But when I think of the times I made personal sacrifices for Madame and her brother, sometimes based on basic physical needs, because Biodad hadn't paid child support but drove a new car and had a new house- Nope, can't do it. When I think of the phone call where he suggested phone sex only a year or so after the marriage to his present wife, with my then boyfriend in the room- Nope, can't bring myself that far. When I think of the lies he spread about me, not only to his family, but to our biological son- Nope, can't do it. When I think of the nasty letter his sister wrote my husband, threatening criminal action which she claimed was based on a phone call to the Cook County State Attorney's Office (Well, she claimed the "Chicago district attorney"), that I later found to be completely false and caused the CCSAO to investigate his own office- Nope, can't do that one, either.

Maybe Madame is lonely for extended family of her own and trying to create some, maybe for her child, without having to go through the hassle of the amends necessary for her to be trusted enough here. I don't know. I know she has a very short memory about the man who went to all her basketball games in middle school, the man who paid for Catholic school, the man who insisted we buy her 3 cars over time, the man who was there for her, the Mister. I don't see how she could choose poor grade horse meat when she has Filet Mignon here. Nothing I can do, I just don't know.

I'm working on Belle's quilt right now, the one I started from her receiving blankets and bibs. She's growing up, not just physically, but emotionally. We have our little moments, but by and large, she is, once again, not nearly as hard to raise as Madame was. Baby's quilt in the same format is there, as well. 

But Madame's quilt sits in a container in the garage, and will for some time.

The Quilt- Part I

I have in my possession a quilt, as yet unfinished. I started it a couple months before my eldest daughter's 20th birthday. She was in the military. It hadn't been an easy time for her, that year. Everything seemed to be a real challenge after flunking out of college. There were drinking issues the Mister and I hoped had stopped because of the new environment. I wanted her to be able to wrap home around her. 


It's various shades of purple: Soft lilacs, almost pinks, bright fuscias, darker violets, with touches of greens, tans and whites here and there. Purple used to be her favorite color. There are squares from her college friends, squares from relatives, all wishing her well for her 20th  birthday. It's BIG, comforter-sized for at least a queen, if not king, bed (I don't measure, I just wing it). Four large rectangles hold the smaller squares, 2 with a flocked white on ecru, and two with very bold yet homey purple calico. There are also hearts in all those various shades of purple. Some of the hearts are embroidered around the outside. I wanted it BIG, because my love for her was even bigger than the quilt.  

As her 20th birthday fast approached, I knew it wasn't going to be finished. I copied the squares from family and her friends in color, and sent those, along with a heartfelt note and some good books. I hoped to have it finished in six months, if not by her 21st birthday. It filled a place in my off-work hours.

By September of that year, I was informed via email that Madame was pregnant, and not sure what she planned to do about it. By Thanksgiving, I was entertaining family and a new son-in-law at the casual "generic" reception the couple requested, complete with hand-embroidered sweatshirts stating Bride and Groom. Madame requested we use the rest of the money we'd saved for a wedding for her to ship her stuff to her next duty station (It wasn't much- she didn't give us enough time). By the spring, I was grandmother to Belle, and the phone calls came every 15 minutes. By the next year, there had been 2 long-distance arguments, at least a month of the Silent Treatment and no contact with Belle, 3 lies regarding needing a loan from us, calls about baby-sitters, numerous calls about the in-laws who also lived at their duty station interfering in her life, a 6-month deployment by the son-in-law, and Baby was on the way.

They came to live with us by the next August, bringing along with them the new van they couldn't afford. Baby came home to our house. SIL left to go back on his ship, and they divorced. I've been caring for Belle and Baby ever since, first to help Madame get through college, then because Madame abdicated parenthood, along with treating her bipolar disorder through her own self-devised methods. 

I never stopped loving her. I never forgot about the quilt. I just didn't have a moment to spare. The year the Mister got so ill took up months of my time, and the children's time. We had a schedule to keep between the hospital, school, working with doctors and just making ourselves rest from the exhaustion having a critically ill spouse and parent entails. We moved, and all that entailed. We became more interactive in the kids' education. There was no time.

I brought too much stuff when we moved. We are talking a few walls of Rubbermaid containers, those big buckets that say they hold 18 gallons, and which can hold about 70 pounds of junk. So I have been going through them, one at a time, looking for junk.

And there was the quilt.