The quilt told of their community, each square lovingly stitched in memory of those passed away that year. The pictures were of their passions, the beautiful obsessions that made their hearts beat strong and true. It was every colour and style with patches of all sizes. Binka said that's what made is so perfect, that;s what made it represent us how we really are.
Upon the bed was a quilt in blues and creams, the colours of the ocean Jazz loved so much. Every pattern was of foliage or flower in flowing swirls, as if together, in print and hue, it told of the oneness of Earth.
When grandmother passed away, she had so many favourite blankets that the children found it difficult to choose one to keep for themselves. There were so many wonderful memories with each - the picnics, the cuddles, the fireside stories. And so grandfather took them all away to his sewing machine and scissors. He put the radio on and the machine whirred, the scissors snipped to all the songs they had shared and danced to. When he was done he came back with pretty quilts, each one with many squares of each. Now each of them had a special Grandmother's quilt.
The quilt was the colour of holly berries at dawn, that rich promise of brilliance to come in the light of day. When Tilda wrapped herself inside it was as if she were a kitten, nestled into her mother, warm with her brothers and sisters. When she wriggled the woven edges, sewn with velvet ribbon would caress her skin and she would allow her dreams to merge into the first thoughts of her day, igniting her ideas and bringing a gentle smile to her lips.
Sarah's quilt had been with her since childhood. The once perfect cloth was worn in places, the colours faded like the photograph upon her window sill. Yet like that old photograph, it held so many memories of times in the sun, it had helped her when times felt tough. So when her time came to move on, to grow and seek adventure, she took the quilt and the old photograph; she knew they were part of the foundation she built her life upon.
Around his shoulders was his baby quilt, worn as a cape might be, as if all those cosy memories of him and mama gave him superpowers. He had eyes that shined like pebbles washed by the ocean waves and a smile that ignited inner laughter in all who saw.