To a Good Friend

This Christmas Break, my mind was able to shift out of overdrive and recover from the mental gymnastics that left it in a mangled heap of contorted tissue. Once I de-stressed and relaxed a bit, I was able to open my mind to the Christmas season with all its delights and memories.
I thought of great gifts that I'd been given over the years, and my mind drifted back to a Christmas when I was in high school. That year, my aunt Minnie had given me a present. I never knew what Minnie had up her sleeve (besides a kleenex she kept there for emergencies) and so I had no idea as to what the gift contained. The box was small and was wrapped in a vintage paper, probably a good decade older than I was, that seemed to have covered another present in years past.
On Christmas morning, I was most curious to see what aunt Minnie's gift was. Tearing the paper revealed the packaging -an old saltine cracker package, perfect for gift-wrapping. And what was inside? Squares of old fabric. Flashy polyester flower-prints that were probably the rage when my parents were kids. Oranges, reds, pinks, and browns, all tucked together in a neat stack. And with the fabric there was a letter.
She had put together a pattern for a small quilt for my gift. Now, here I must confess that at the time, I had no desire to take up quilting as a hobby, and for a few moments, I thought of how I might just get rid of the little fabric squares. My conscience and my sincere care for my well-meaning friend got the better of me, and I determined to bite the bullet, swallow my masculine teenage pride, and sew the quilt top together.
And now another confession: all the hours I spent at the sewing machine grew on me. I would put a classical music CD on, and spend my spare time piecing together projects. The whole process was very relaxing and fulfilling. I was always thrilled with what I produced in the end.
So I finished putting the quilt top together. And then I put it aside for the day when I'd find the time to make a back for it and tie and bind it together.
I left for school in Mesa, and there it sat. I left for my mission in Canada for two years, and it got placed in a storage bin with the rest of my quilting fabric (yes, I do have some). And there it stayed until I thought of it this year. My dear friend Minnie passed away over 3 years ago; she couldn't help me stretch it onto the frame down at her mother's house and put it all together. She couldn't help me roll the edges of the backing over and pin it for binding it on the sewing machine. She couldn't stand back and admire it with me once it was finished, but she taught me how to do all these things.
And so I did. My aunt Julie inherited Minnie's quilting frame. I borrowed the frame for the project. Memories of long visits and tired shoulder muscles came back as I saw the frame, with thousands of holes from the staples she'd used to tack the fabric on, and her name burned into the wood.
I stayed up late one night into the early morning tying, and the next afternoon, I bound the edges to finish it.This Christmas, I remembered a person who knew the meaning of giving. She shared her talents, her warmth (usually in the way of quilts), her humor, her smile, and everything she was blessed with; she passed them on when she saw the need for it.And in that same spirit of giving, I share this with everyone who knew her -hoping that you'll find the same joy in remembering Minnie that I've found this year.