My family were all packrats, but my mom was the worst. For years she kept my closet cluttered with boxes of fabric scraps. She had made a lot of my clothes growing up, as well as Halloween costumes and clothes for my dolls. I could never convince her to throw all of this useless fabric away. One year, it all came together. I was in my mid-twenties when I opened a package to find a quilt. My mom had that special kind of smile on her face, so I looked at it closer - suddenly it hit me - there was my pink party dress! That was the fabric from my favorite doll's dress! Even when I can't place the source of the material, it is still familiar. I still remember it.

That gift was over 20 years in the making. It represented all of those years she held onto those scraps, waiting for the day she could learn to make a quilt. This was the first one she ever made. It also represented all of those nights she spent at the sewing machine, trying to make me special clothes that would make me feel pretty, in spite of our limited budget. It reminded me of the day that I opened my bedroom door to find all of my well-worn and straggly dolls lined up on the bed in fancy new outfits, for no reason at all. It may sound maudlin, but when I curl up in that blanket, I am wrapping myself up in the comfort of my childhood.