I am writing. And I am modelling my writing on a quilt that I once saw. I don’t know how she made hers. But I start with pieces and colours, and sort them into piles. I place the fragments as best I can. I cut the shapes to fit. I sew them in side-by-side. I work and rework every inch. It takes a long time and I train my patience on it.
My quilt will tell a story about my skills. I admit that it is a bit raggedy. There are a few holes and the shape is not true, the colours are off in places.
My quilt will tell a story about my history and my hopes. So it will have beautiful moments and it will have ugly lumps.
My quilt will speak from the fragments of time that I inhabit. It will be a work of repair from a time where repair is a calling.
And because it is a quilt from this time, it will be a quilt where contradictions meet and fail to meet. There will be patterns and there will be places where the patterns dissolve.
My quilt will be a work to keep us warm and bring us joy.
I am writing. And when I am finished with writing this quilt, I will start another.