Quilting Ambivalence

Her heart swells with unconditional love while the images of her best friend, who’s running around outside and barking at passerbyers, is lying on the ground with crimson running over the freshly mowed grass. Everyday she wakes up thinking about the black labrador dog. Every minute she thinks about the dog taking a nap and never waking up. One day her furry companion may bark at the wrong person and, with a gun or a knife or a car, be killed just for being protective. Maybe her father will get too frustrated one night and hit the dog too hard; he’s never physically violent with the dogs but the rage in his voice could transpire to something more sinister. 

While she sits in the living room with her mother, with some British drama playing on the television, she takes in this precious moment. One day she will remember this pastime while she mourns her dead mother. Maybe, she thinks, she will find her mother dead in bed with the breathing machine still running. Will the breathing machine detect that her mother has died? Will it stop running as the air builds up in the chamber? Will the dogs know their owner has passed or will she have to watch them anxiously await the mother’s return after leaving the house on a gurney? 

Maybe her mother will not pass in her sleep but in a horrid car accident. The GPS will lead the car down a wrong lane, or the stop sign will be knocked down, or an animal will run into the road, but inevitably she will die from the impact of another vehicle crashing into her. On a lovely fall morning after a cool rainy night the woman she loves with all her heart will hit a patch of leaves and spin out. She will remember her mother telling her wet leaves are just as slick as icy winter roads. The irony will not be lost but her mom’s life will be. 

One day her dad will be mowing the grass on a hot summer's day- No. It will be a cool 70 degrees fahrenheit. He will have had his morning coffee after sleeping in until 6am. The dogs will lay on the porch watching the lawnmower suspiciously. She will watch from the window as she makes her cup of tea, appreciating the cozy little life she lives with her parents and the dogs. The warmth of the woodburner, the smell of cinnamon, the birds eating out of several feeders around the yard. Ah! A lovely time to be a young adult. 

Her tea will grow cold as she spends her time performing CPR. Her father had a heart attack while mowing the grass. How could he have a heart attack? She was just thinking about all of the holidays she would have with her family. Her father may not interact much during those times but she understands he gets overwhelmed and it’s easier to be alone. She still appreciates those moments whether they are tense or not. Now she will spend Thanksgiving with her mourning mother and her cynical brothers. 

She watches her loved ones closely. Every blink of their eyes, twitch of their fingers, rise and fall of their chest. The small dog is oddly still on the floor. One… Two… Three… Four… When will he breathe? How long until he take- Ah! A breath. Shallow, slow, peaceful. The pup lets out a huff of breath and she smiles; it’s always funny when he lets out a huff of breath like an old man frustrated with how life has changed. The young dog is only three years old; will he grieve his owner’s passing or will they grieve his? 

Time reminds one of its dichotomy every time the clock hands click. What a deceiving little thing time is. The clock hands spin and spin and spin and never stop. Time feels endless that way, as the minutes run in circles while one laughs, plays, and loves. The hands of time still pass by as one grows old and dies. The hands never stop as one mourns another. What happened? One day she told herself she will spend more time with her grandmother, learn about her childhood, so she can honor her grandmother’s life. The next day she is making one phone call after another and another and another until everyone has heard the news that suddenly, without a warning, on a lovely 73 degree day with the sun shining and the birds chirping as they fly through the blue skies, her grandmother has passed. 

Everyday she will think of all the good and bad. She will sit at work, staring death in the face as she fears it. She will long for the sweet release of death while it grabs her heart and squeezes it until the pain vibrates in her chest. Her heart will never burst but it will ache. And ache. And ache. Until it stops. She will be okay and appreciate life. She will understand that if one were to live forever it would be just as agonizing as watching one die.  

Tonight she will fall asleep with the images of an intruder breaking in and eradicating her family one by one; first the dogs, then her mother, then her father, then her. The story repeats in her head with a different ending every time. She will stop the intruder. She will escape. She will call the police. Her family will die. Only she dies while she protects them. Each ending will be different and every time she will take comfort in knowing she is prepared for anything. Everyday she will be prepared for the news that someone is getting married just as well as the news that a bridge collapsed and her brother was driving on it at the time. 

Love may provide the courage to conquer fear. Fear may stop one from loving the joys of life. Both are necessary to appreciate the short time we have. Both will protect her from the horrors of the world. Will she ever stop knitting together love and fear, creating a blanket to shield her from the inescapable truths that life will soon end for her but continue for everyone around her? 

Alas, the quilt is too cozy to remove and she would rather stay warm.