Quilt Memories

I saw the old quilt draped over the couch this morning. I have seen so many like it— the same pastel-hued patches the little yarn ties, the broad, patterned underside. I drew it near to my heart and embraced it like a long-lost relative. Even the smell— the warm, homely smell of the blanket closet under the stairs in a place far away— took me back to the wide halls and shadowed rooms, to lying on the old porch swing on the cool, cloudy days when the breezes carried the scent of sweet rain.