the quilt. . .

I had a pink room as a little girl. Pink wallpaper. Pink carpeting. Pink furniture. Everything.

I'm not so much about the pink as an adult. Maybe too much pink as a girl. Maybe it's the whole boy thing. Not sure. I love green. And the natural colors. . .

However. . . My Great Grandma Smith made me a special pink quilt for my bed as a girl. Loved it. Still cherish it now. It's fraying and you can see the batting under the squares where the thread has let loose. . . But she made it especially for me. . . . And I love it with all my little girl heart. I hoped to hang it in my own little girl's room. . . But the whole genetics thing wasn't on my side (grin). So, I keep it in my closet to touch and love every day when I peek inside. . .

While thrifting last week, I came across this quilt. Pink . . . But I couldn't pass it by. First of all, it was $4 (and you know that's too much of a great deal for me to pass by). . . Maybe Pottery Barn? Heavy and lovely. . . And even though there's really no place for it in this boys' kingdom. . . I had to bring it home with us.

Most of all, because it brought to mind my Great Grandma Smith. . .and her careful. . .loving. . . beautiful quilter's hands and heart. . . Thinking I could snuggle under it when the winter nights come. . .

But, this morning, as little Luke snuggled on the couch with his morning milk and woops. . . goosebumped with the morning chill. . . I had to cover him up. . . I could almost feel my Great Grandma's hands wrapping him up. . .

And he smiled. . . .