Monday, March 11, 2013


A few weeks ago we went to Austin so I could attend QuiltCon. I had been looking forward to this trip for nearly a year and it did not disappoint. It was a bit surreal, to be honest. It felt a little like being rescued from a deserted island and realizing you aren't the only person left in the world after all. After years of feeling as though I didn't quite fit in with the quilting community, I suddenly found myself surrounded by the very people who started the modern quilting movement. 

A weekend of lectures, workshops, vendors and conversation with other people who share my aesthetic was wonderful but what I took away most from this lovely trip was a bit...heavier...or more revealing, I guess I should say. 

I had a chance to bump into one of the very people I went to see. A lovely woman whose quilts I admire so much. I got a quick moment to chat with her and a hug that left tears. 

This dear lady was such a sweetheart, so kind and so very, very maternal...and there they were....tears. Because these days, any and all things "mama" leaves me sobbing with an emotion so strong I just don't understand it. 

I know I need to face it...I know my years and years of defenses that have guarded me from just this very thing are crumbling. And how could they not? But, oh my goodness, I feel ill equipped for this. 

And now I am almost my mother's age when she collapsed.....and my oldest daughter is the age I was when that happened and of course it's surfacing now....bubbling over and spilling out at random moments. And I want to keep hiding...keep ignoring this thing that won't be ignored.  

But when I sat and listened to this woman speak, listened to her give a lecture that left the entire audience in tears as she spoke of her family and how they shaped her and inspired her and I realized that feeling all of this is the normal part. The grief, loss, sadness and loneliness are normal. But the feeling I've had my entire life, of thinking I was the only one who felt this, that is the part I need to let go of. 

And so, after weeks of avoiding this space again, of not being able to find the words to describe the constant undercurrent, I'm here. Trying. 

And I'll keep trying. 


  1. Beautiful, Dixie! Deep, soothing, cleansing, living... Beautiful.

  2. oh how I love your brave heart!~! you are so right, but it takes courage to move through all those emotions. thank you for sharing-- xoox, e

    1. Elizabeth, that's twice in one day your words have touched me. Thank you. xoxo

  3. I love you mama. I just caught up with your blog today, and I can't believe I've missed all this loveliness and beauty. Can't wait to read more.