You know, I think we could be better at training our boys, aka, future men, at an earlier age to recognize and appreciate a good woman. It is senseless to wait until adolescence or the college years (pardon the redundancy), or to leave it up to Madison Avenue and Hollywood. I have introduced these qualities to our son, and now I'm sorry I didn't birth a dozen boys to mold. The world would be a better place if all mothers made quilts for their young sons.
The very first quilt I made was for our son. Of my own coltish design, it used three fabrics from a discount house, had 5/8" seams, and was quite a bit smaller when sewn up than what I had planned. Technically a comforter, I tied it with love in my heart. When he opened it that Christmas, the rascal ran upstairs and got the pillow from his bed. Back in the living room, he spread the comforter out on the floor and rested his head on the pillow. From this snug vantage point, he watched the rest of us open our presents, even as his sat undisturbed beneath the tree. He loved his quilt, the one his mother made him. In this unannounced act, he returned to me a dozenfold the love I had put into that gift. Sigh. This is a true story.
I am, however, playing catch-up with Hubba. Case in point: Awhile back he was listening to a friend detail his experience of trimming a tree in his backyard. Big whoop. Apparently, Hubba was attending quite well when it occurred to the man that this was a really boring, one-sided conversation.
"I'm sorry. This must be of no interest to you at all."
"No, no, it's fine," said Hubba. "I've learned to look interested, even as my eyes glaze over, while Kari drones on endlessly about quilting." On second thought, I think I am making headway with him.
One of my early projects was a quilt for Hubba. I selected fabrics that reminded me of the clothes he wears to the office on Saturday mornings, when he dresses more casually. I like the earthy tones and textures of his Saturday wardrobe, and love the funky ties he will choose when he can relax a bit more. I determined with fanfare that the quilt would bear the name, "James Burns, Esq. Saturday Morning." In these early days, I confused love with the size of the pieces of fabric I was willing to cut, then sew back together. I have always suffered from attaching myself to preconceived notions.
A project of these dimensions required a lot of cutting, and once I get cutting I don't like to be interrupted. This is the stage of the project that requires the full frontal lobe. So, when Hubba came home for lunch one day, I selflessly ran upstairs and made him his noonday meal, then returned to my “studio” for more cutting. I loved the feel of the fabrics, and the selections were indeed reminiscent of the quilt's name.
After he had eaten his hastily-prepared lunch, he came downstairs to kiss me good-bye. I swooned. (I admit it, I'm talking about the fabric here.)
"Oh, Honey! I hope you love this quilt as much as I love making it for you! Working on it is a joy; and with the fabrics I chose, it's just like having you here with me."
"Well, I have been here. Upstairs. Alone. Eating my lunch."
I've had to slow down and back up and bit with him. The quilt still isn't done, thanks to the 2000+ little pieces that impressed my beginner's mind, but I am spending more time with Hubba. Given enough time, I think I may be able to bring him on board.
Copyright © 4/30/2005 Kari E.O. Burns
No comments:
Post a Comment