Some of my earliest memories are probably of you working with quilts, mom. I can't remember a time when I didn't know how a quilt went into a frame! You hated measuring and figuring and the very thought of piecing a quilt would have ruined your day but how you loved to quilt! I inherited those genes.
It wasn't that you couldn't measure and figure or piece a quilt, mom, you could. You just hated doing it! You had an uncanny knack for "eyeballing" things, as you would say. You'd trim the edge for your lining or batting, and rather than go to all the hassle of measuring and figuring, more often than not you'd "just eyeball it" and end up with a line very nearly as straight as any meticulous measuring or figuring would have produced! I inherited those genes too.
You worked with all kinds of quilts, mom - perfect, uniform ones, and imperfect, crooked ones! You would fudge a little here and tuck a little there and we learned that most of those bubbles would "quilt out" and many a person would "go from here to New York and never notice" those crooked lines. You loved the people and the stories behind the quilts so much more than perfection! I hope I've inherited those genes too.
Someday maybe I'll quilt for others like you did, mom. For now, when I smooth and pin and "eyeball" and cut and my girls look on and say, "How can you cut straight like that?" and "What are you doing that for?" I'll think of you and treasure the memories!