Late last year, my eldest reduced all her worldly goods (except for a few boxes of stuff still here in a closet) into a backpack and left home with a one-way ticket to wherever, and I started the work of downsizing my aging mother because of her growing need for care and assistance with day-to-day living. Both of these women are in transitions that have left me thinking a lot about all the stuff I own because I’m also in transition as my nest empties out. These two have also helped med decide two things: I want to abandon the nest when the chicks have finally all fledged and do some traveling—go back to being the light-footed-lives-on-air sort of person I was years ago and still am at heart—and I don’t want to leave my offspring with the task of getting rid of all my crap when the time comes.
I’ve dumped out of all but the essentials in exchange for mobility at least three times in my life, so it’s generally not a big deal for me to let go and move on. But it’s not always easy. Which leads to me to actually talking about something quilting-related.
My exercise in letting go of things had me contemplating my box of fabric this morning, which is mostly scraps because I originally purchased only scraps from garage sales and turned them into even more scrappy scraps after I put a few quilts together.
Our current potholders are showing signs of age and wear, so I decide to make a couple of new ones to use up materials. They aren’t the greatest, but they’ll do. I should get rid of the older ones, which was my intention, but my daughter made them years ago, and she put a lot more thought into hers than I did into mine, and she just left home for wherever with everything on her back….I could care less about dishes and vases and pieces of furniture or clothing, but some of my stuff simply makes me stop and consider my heart.
Potholders are easy projects—great for gifts or to use up scraps or if you want to teach someone to sew and/or quilt (had to say something that sounded more quilt-guildy)
I’m working on a longer piece of writing that talks more about owning stuff and life’s transitions, but it’s sort of starting to be spring out there and I’m restless as all get out — all of which shows in the quality of these new potholders that I’ve arranged so as to hide mistakes. I’m just not in nesting mode anymore.