It was finished on Saturday.
Most of yesterday was spent curled up in it- reading, knitting, petting the cat, napping, and finally sleeping under it.
I know it's not a complicated or fancy blanket, but I made it for me, from my stories and those I love, and it makes me so happy.
There are lots and lots of places where the stitches run into, cross, or weave to and away from each other in odd inconsistent ways. Unplanned.
I don't mind. I kind of like the meeting places of selves from different days and moments.
My crazy wonky stitches make me happy. Sometimes they were lines of getting through, carrying on or finding purpose, and other times- like a laugh of "I'm here! Having a good time, making marks of myself!"
It was started in October 2018, because someone told me to make myself a quilt. I rolled my eyes at her, but a week later stitched the first few squares. In a blog post I wrote, "Maybe a very slow quilt, a square here and there, of cloths that are gifts, memories, and loved. A way to hold them, and eventually they might hold me back. We'll see."
It's a good blanket. (And there are a few stories about this old bed to tell on another day.)
