Years ago, well before my writing days and when my son was small, I designed and sewed an appliqued quilt for his bed. About half way through the creation, I put it aside. I don’t recall what was going on in my life, perhaps the big organic garden, or perhaps I was simply tired. The following year, I got it out again and finished it. I was so happy to see it on his bed. And I was so happy that it lasted thirty-five years and into the lives of my grandchildren, used until it was threadbare.