Today was a cold and wet day. A Cat in the Hat kind of day. The kind of day that makes me want to curl up on the couch under my favorite blanket with a few cookies and a good book. When I have the opportunity to lounge on the couch, I tend to do it with a blanket over me. I like the cozy warmth. I like the comfort it brings. It may sound odd to find comfort in a quadrilateral, but I do.
Rectangles define so many things. When I want to imagine, wonder, or learn, it’s a book that I seek–a rectangular escape of paper and print. When I learned how to sew, I guided fabric to shape a pillow in junior high, curtains for our first house, a quilt for our first child. Things made from the heart. Things to add warmth to our home. When my Grandmother, whom I am named for, taught me how to knit, it was rectangles that I learned at her side. First a swatch, then a scarf, then numerous sweaters. Hours spent coaxing fiber into fabric. Woolen rectangles to soothe the soul. And on this chilly, rainy day it was this abundantly green afghan that I was searching for to bring warmth:
My Grandmother made it for me ages ago. She knew that I liked the color green, so she found several shades for the afghan. She was an amazing fiber artist, regardless of method. I’m not sure if it is fiber or memories that provide the most warmth when I sit under it. But today, when I opened the blanket drawer, this particular rectangle was missing. I briefly panicked, until I turned and saw my son curled up with a book underneath it.
I just wanted to snuggle under Great-Grandma’s blanket. It makes me feel good.
That it does. Because there is comfort in rectangles.