I'm remembering when I got these scraps. These scraps came from a bag that I bought knowing that it was only composed of small scraps. I used to go to a very fancy cloth shop which had many bolts of cloth that I wouldn't have afforded--$25 to $30 a yard, back in the early years of this century, when that price would have made me gasp. But for $5-$10, I could get a bag of scraps that had gorgeous bits, many of which I could use.
I only bought a few of those bags. In part, it was because they were organized by color, and some colors, like the bag of black and white scraps, for example, I couldn't foresee having a use for.. In part, it's because I always ended up with more scraps than I could use, and then I had to figure out what to do with them. But it was primarily because I thought it was an extravagance that I shouldn't be affording.
And yet, each bag brought such joy. Often I bought them during a trip to the store with fellow quilting friends, and the best part was when a friend would buy one too--and then we'd trade scraps. I remember giving my friend all the red ones, while she sorted out the autumnal colors for me. And then there was the joy of shifting each scrap into longer strips, seeing which colors went best together, followed by the calming stitching. And now I remember the happiness of the October 2020 quilt retreat when I look at them--happy memory upon happy memory.
I try to fast forward myself 20 years into the future. What extravagances will I wonder why I denied myself? Wine? Better quality sheets? Will I approve of some of my extravagances? Books? Which extravagance will I wonder what took me so long to indulge? Another graduate degree?
And the most important question: where will I look back with sorrow, knowing that 2021 Kristin saw extravagance, when she should have been seeing necessity?
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