Autumn Rushes in—Moves on

 

Another month glides by as I continue to lick my wounds. Some days I long to get out and scream. I fear no one will hear me, so I rest when I need to and keep going while I can. In the past week, I have been resting, writing and consuming lots of continual fluids—a cold or maybe a flu-like bug has struck my system.

There has been a chill in the air and a bug at my back door. I love the fresh air; I really do. But these rain and wind storms scare me. Where can you run that the lightning won’t follow? Will these storms bring darkness as it did last year? To that I say, please don’t. In my house, it was a day in August and five days with the October storm. Let’s hope Mother Nature spares us this fall.

So, as my head slowly unclutters and the skies continue to grey, I’m reminded of my blog Wuthering Storms—mostly because I’m lying here wrapped in my quilt.

For this time and once more to come, I will share an old post from The Cheshire Patch. After that, I will continue to move on and see where that leads.

Please feel free to let me know when there is something you would like to know more about.

So, here is what I have to share.

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Wuthering Storms

Posted on August 29, 2011 at 2:50 am

Malissia and Melissa

Five days in advance, I scampered around to find my batteries, flashlights, lighters, candles, extra cell phone, rain coat, boots and emergency food cooler – complete with granola bars, H2O bottles, vitamins, canned tuna, can opener and Ritz crackers. Having no idea just how bad Irene would hit, I had to prepare for the worst. My first instinct would be to head for my bed and wait for her to pass.

And now as I lay here awaiting her complete departure, I’m reminded of storms, like Hurricane Gloria, from my younger years. Even then, nothing gave me more comfort than my Nana’s quilt. I’d crawl in the bed, wrap it around me and pray to be kept safe.

Nana was my favorite grandmamma Malissia – my maternal great grandmother. Growing up, I skipped preschool to stay home with her. She taught me how to cook, sew and speak my mind. Nana was so funny. She’d tell you just what she thought of you and could care less if it hurt. Of course, when it came to me, my Nana was gentle. She was my best friend.

When I was four, I sat in her room handing her patches of cloths. I watched as she stitched each piece together and blessed it with her sweat. I begged her to let me help with the arrangement; I thought the colors were so pretty and resembled the sky. Little did I know that the quilt was my special present.

One day while I was out with my mom, I came home to find it spread on my bed. I screamed to Nana that I loved her and hugged my bed tight. And now as I lay here wondering if Irene will blow the house down, I hold my bed tight.

As children, we find comfort in physical objects. But as adults, our attachments to these objects and memories of the people associated with them can become internal resources we can take anywhere. We carry quilts of coping, quilts of hope and quilts patched together from precious memories. Tell me about your quilts. Tell me about your patches.

What are the moments that you hold tight? What moments enable you to weather the wuthering times? Let’s remember these memories and share. Irene has given us these moments to reflect. So feel free to share moments of relationships past and present.

Like relationships, quilts do become worn. But, with a few added patches and some stitches, its life can be prolonged. So, no need to let Irene get you down; she could have been much worse.

As Terri Guillemets (a US quotation anthologist) said, “Weather is a great metaphor for life – sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, and there’s nothing much you can do about it but carry an umbrella.”

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Let’s hope my quilt is enough to keep me warm this fall, as I move on.