““My mama always said piecing quilts is like making friends.' She kept her eyes on the scissors as she cut up a piece of blue ticking. 'Sometimes the more different fabrics - and people - are,' she said, 'the stronger the pattern.' I looked up at her. She smiled a sad, sweet smile at me. I felt as if she'd looked right into my heart and seen all my warts and flaws, and held her own heart out to me anyway.””
