I dreamed about her the second night after she left us. She was working on a quilt, a child-sized quilt, fashioned of beautiful jewel colors and complicated floral and vine patterns. The edges were unfinished so I could see the stuffing inside.
"But Ruth doesn't work quilts," I wondered to myself, thinking of other projects more like her: the Halloween costumes, the special occasion dresses, the birthday and Christmas presents, the upholstery.
This pretty out of the ordinary project brought me no dream-anxiety, however. We were together, Ruth and me, and the time, like always, was comfortable, comforting and full of love.
When I woke I understood at once. Her project of working together our crazy quilt family is not done and we must continue her work.
