This weekend as I was driving up to visit mi familia, I passed by my grandmothers house and unloaded some big heavy tears in the process. It's been four years since I've been to her house. Four years since our family moved out all of her furniture, polished the word work, and closed the front door for the last time. Four long years since she passed away from lung cancer. In that time many things have happened: I've moved (4 times), been on TV (once) and started dating a wonderful person (one that she'd like, she wouldn't say "I never liked that one anyway" about this one). But the one thing that hasn't happened is the one thing that I vow to accomplish during the winter: I'm going to make a quilt, and I'm making it for Audi. I always wanted to learn how to quilt from her, but I never got the chance. And you can't imagine how angry I get at myself when I say "I never got the chance" because in all honesty, I had the chance. I had 24 years of chances. I would have made them all count if I knew how limited my time was.
This past Saturday, three generations of us visited her local quilt shop, and we all left with a goody-bag. That was a rule with Audi: if you go shopping, you don't leave empty handed! (Ahem, I should also say that we did the same when it came to antiquing, too...) I found some wonderful scrap fabrics, made even more wonderful because it was only $5 for a bag o' scraps. She'd be proud. I have been collecting scraps over the past four years, and now I'll finally begin assembling them into something that I can be proud of. Something that she'd be proud of. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
