My Grandma made quilts. We fought over them--who got to sleep under which one and when. After she died, I inherited one of my favorite quilts from her! Well, my sister got my very best favorite quilt and I was bitter. But not for long. Hers had rust stains and mine is perfect; therefore, it is now my new very best favorite quilt and I display it proudly. It smells just like her house always did and takes me back instantly--musty, slightly mildewy, stuffy and sweet. I loved visiting at my Grandma's house and it's possible I may never wash this quilt just so I can remember how things really were.
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