falcongrrl: (falcon)
[personal profile] falcongrrl
I just put a quilt that my great-grandmother made into the washing machine.

It's a butterfly quilt that is quite literally falling apart at the seams. The fabric is frayed, some of the patches have pulled off, many of the butterflies are attached tenuously.

If I were a different sort, I'd probably put it away and never touch it again. Ensure that it will be handed down safely to either Daniel or Ellie. Or I'd pay to have it reconstructed, if such a thing is even possible at this point. Frame it and hang it on the wall or use it as a decorative bedspread.

But I'm lazy and hedonistic, in equal parts. I love the feel of the worn fabric against me, its incomparable softness. I love the smell of it, the blend of multiple detergents, multiple closets, with a slight underlay of the musky perfume of those it's covered.

It's my personal blankie.

Still, I can't decide if subjecting it to this level of use is a waste. If I'm heedlessly, thoughtlessly wearing it out. Or if, by contrast, it's not using it that would be the waste. The waste of the softness, the scent, the pleasure of being wrapped up in a piece of family history.

A+

(no subject)

Date: 2004-11-13 01:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] tuftears.livejournal.com
It's probably time to start thinking about hand-washing it.

I can tell you that if you don't use it and your kids don't use it, when you go on to the Big Birdhouse in the Sky, the kids are going to go 'Okay, this was great-great-grammy's blankey... Toss it, it's junk.'

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falcongrrl

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