In the Margins--Words of L. Phillips Thune

A New Healing... or Addiction

     Who knows how long it will last, but two months ago, I became addicted to...quilting. I've managed to sew a few things in my life that I'm proud of:  a little pinafore dress for my sister when she was a toddler; my wedding dress (from a Vintage Vogue pattern in 1978--the girls said it looked like a "country" dress!); my daughter's prom dress (my neighbor had to rescue it--the slit in the lining didn't match up with the slit on the front of the dress); and baby clothes, a housecoat for my first grandson.
     As I learn about living in a emptier nest, I've returned to some of those activities that fell to the back of the line when all the girls were home.  Writing, sewing, daydreaming...  Once the girls started moving out for school, getting married, making their own way, it was hard to turn my focus away from mothering them and back toward the life that began with just Peter and me.  Then to have Annie gone for good, beyond reach other than through my prayers and dreams, the challange seemed more than I could handle.
     I'm not sure why I decided to take a quilt class (offered at Northwest Sewing Center) out of the blue.  But in one month, Terry helped me create my first quilt; it ended up being a birthday present for our second daughter, Asha.  Little sister, Halla, helped model it, although not quite as I intended:

   

Even Holden likes it! 

     Once you start, you can't stop.  I decided to try and make a lap quilt for a friend who wasn't feeling well. I used two different patterns I found online:

           

     I've spent hours online searching through modern quilt sites, signing up for newsletters and free patterns, subscribing to magazines...a quilt junkie.  When I'm working on these projects, I feel a reprieve from fatigue and sadness.  A friend told me that Annie was trying to help me feel better, too.  It must be true; not long ago I had a dream that a bird was on my back porch, and it was made of many different colors--like a quilt.
     Mwah.

Two Men and a Dragonfly

Some signs are so wonderful, you can't help but believe. 
     When I keep my senses open, Annie's messages find their way to me, especially when I'm needing them most. We're days away from her being gone two years. I decided to take flowers to her tree in Old Settlers'Park.  I had meant to take the flowers the week before, but time got away from me. When I arrived, I stared at yet another message...a giant dragonfly kite was flying around Annie's tree.

 
Two young men were kite-flying.  It was a fine day; I couldn't quite believe it, but there it was.  After taking pictures, putting the flowers by the tree, and spending a bit of time watching and thinking of Annie, I decided to tell the two guys a story about their kite.

     They were so kind.  I explained to them that I lost my daughter almost two years ago; how I decided to come today, a week late, to bring flowers; and that she had a dragonfly tattoo which is why I collect dragonfly items. They expressed their condolences and then asked me if I wanted to fly the kite.  It was an unexpected, gentle gesture; I was surprised...I said, "Oh no, I'll crash it." But the young man holding the kite assured me I wouldn't and handed the string-filled spool to me. What  an amazing feeling.  The kite pulled my hands as if Annie were taking me for a walk...it looked so alive and vibrant against the blue sky.  I said, "Hi Annie!"  The feeling of her being at the other end of the kite momentarily materialized. I became a little verklempt and handed back the reel.  I thanked them so much for being there to give me my message from Annie. 
      There were several angels around me that day--not just above or invisible, but in the form of two kind young men and a dragonfly kite.

Mwah, Annie.