Day 62 Receiving a quilt home again - a writing exercise

The doorbell rang abruptly, interrupting the patchworker who had been happily sewing at her machine. It was a new quilt, something she had wanted to make for a long time, now finally those fabrics were running lovingly through the sewing machine. Pure bliss - the feeling of a new project. But who could be here at this time of night?

The door was opened to the Quilter, an old friend who was a professional machine quilter. She carried a large bag in one hand. Patchworker looked down at the bag and excitement brilled as she recognised a small piece of blue chenille showing at the top. Quilter was ushered inside eagerly with a warm welcome and a cheery smile. Patchworker was keen to see the toile and chenille quilt she had made so long ago, now finally expertly quilted by her friend. Quilter always did a fantastic job. Together they opened out the large quilt and Patchworker looked upon it with a large smile upon her face. The quilting was definitely beautifully done. Every block had a fleur-de-lis design it it specially chosen by Patchworker. Quilter had used a matching blue thread that showed the pattern nicely on the blue toile. Even on the wide blue chenille border Quilter had done a superb job, unfortunately not able to be seen from the front. Her work was meticulous.

Patchworker smiled broadly as she inspected the quilt and told Quilter how lovely it was.

"It was the quilt from hell!" excalimed Quilter.

Patchworker's smile slowly faded from her face. "What do you mean?" Quilter went on to explain how much trouble the quilt had been, how none of the blocks were square, some borders too tight, others extemely loose and wavy, asked how the borders had been measured and cut. Patchworker was dumbstruck. The quilt had been machine pieced a couple of years ago so memory was quite faded in regards to the construction, although she remembered enjoying making the quilt and did not recall having any problems. How could this be so? How could the quilt be so bad?

Quilter left Patchworker alone. She returned to her sewing machine and sat down, staring at the wall in front of her, crushed. 'The quilt from hell.' Never in a million years did Patchworker think she was capable of making a quilt that could deserve such a title. She knew she was not the best patchworker in town, that her work was often rushed and could definitely be improved upon, and that was something she was working on. Simultaneously she did not believe she was incredibly bad either. But the quilt from hell proved otherwise. She twisted around where she sat and looked at the quilt now bundled in the corner of the room. How could she look at this quilt ever again? Every time she did she would think of it as the quilt from hell, the quilt that yelled at her "You're such a bad quiltmaker!" "Don't delude yourself - you'll never be any good!"

Patchworker turned her back on the quilt. Her shoulders were slumped, her head tilted forward, eyes sad. There were no tears, just a mass of thoughts going through her head. Nobody would ever know it was the quilt from hell because Quilter had done such a good job with the quilting that it now lay flat and looked even all round. Quilter was very good at what she did, unlike Patchworker. Patchworker began to wonder if she should quit while she was ahead, stop making quilts and look for something else to do with her spare time - something she could be good at. But then she had been trying to find that something all her life and never found it.

She looked down at the beautiful olde world fabrics of the new quilt she had started that day, switched off the sewing machine and went to bed.