One of the things I love to do whenever I come back to Vegas is dig through all my boxes that my Dad keeps in his basement. I reread fiction I wrote when I was a little kid (truly, I was a weird child), remember all the cool books I bought and read, but can't schlep with me everywhere, and look at old photos of my friends when we were really awkward looking (some of us still are ;).
I especially love all the stuff from my summers spent with my grandparents in Georgia. My grandmother taught me how to quilt and is a prize-winning quilter. I don't know that I still remember how to quilt, but at one point, I was decent enough to help my grandmother make this amazing little dutch girl quilt when I was twelve. (That throw pillow, I even handled all by myself.)
Having Tigerlily around makes me think about women and traditions passed down through the generations. I'm a bit too old to rock this pink quilt anymore, but I spruced up my family's antique bed (my favorite bed ever) with it this trip. I hope one day to pass it on to my daughter. And in the event that I don't have one, I'll give it to Tigerlily. Even if she isn't into pink, it's really warm and perfect for a little girl.
I'm headed back to Scotland this evening-- and I'm very much looking forward to it-- but it's been nice digging through boxes and remembering for the past ten days.
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