When I was young, I thought I’d grow up to be a saint. Of course, it wasn’t long before I noticed that all the saints had an awful lot of misery in their lives and, more often than not, even more miserable deaths. I revised my expectations. Majoring in English was much less lofty of a goal but, taken all in all, the worst side effect seems to be that I permanently signed away any likelihood of traveling first class.
Still, given that unfulfilled childhood dream, how could I pass up the chance to call myself an angel instead? This little quilt (called “Cowboy Up” because it makes me think of rodeos) is an angel quilt for Doll Quilt Swap 6.
I am so grateful to the quilters who take on the task of organizing the doll quilt swaps. What a job! (Can’t wait for them to take a breather, gear up, and get it going all over again. DQS7 anyone?) And, seriously, they are the real angels! Giving so generously of their time so we can all share in the fun.
Hey. All this talk of angels just triggered a (very old) memory: when I was young, say eight or nine, I took the idea of guardian angels very seriously. It seemed to me only right that being a guardian all day long would be a pretty tiring business and that, come nighttime, they would need to get in as good a sleep as I did. Only, well, they had these wings, big wings that took a lot of room.
I tried to explain this to my mother when she came to tuck me in and was surprised to find me wa-a-ay over on the side of the bed. “But my guardian angel needs the room!” She was unmoved by the argument. She ordered me back to the middle of the bed. I scooted over, apologizing in my head to the angel whose wings I was squishing. And, of course, as soon as my mom shut the bedroom door, I slid right back over to teetering on the edge. Just a little secret between me and my angel.
Remembering that just makes me smile, as good a way to end the day as any. And, really, I think I have to say kudos to my younger self – because making room for your angels seems pretty wise, all things considered.