It was almost time to get up. I could tell by the light in the windows. But I nodded off again, my head on Jon’s shoulder. It was only a few minutes before I woke up again. And in that time I saw the quilt that I’m working on, and it was finished.
Even after immediately waking up, I couldn’t recall it exactly, but I did retain the essence of it. The look of it. And an important part of it was faded denim.
Now I know Jon has more jeans on his shelf than he ever wears. I know because I do the laundry and the jeans on the bottom of the pile never get washed.
I suppose I could have just taken a pair and he probably never would have known the difference. But I wanted the pair he had laid out the night before, to wear today.
They’re the right color with just the right amount of fading and wear.
I told Jon about my dream. Being a creative himself, understanding the creative process and having great respect for it, how could he deny me the material I needed for my quilt.
I have to say it’s been an ongoing thing. All day.
It’s not like I was going to cut them off of him when he took a nap, like he accused me of wanting to do. But I couldn’t help eyeing them, picturing them in my quilt. Actually they’re the next step, I can’t go further on the quilt without them.
I even tried reverse psychology. We’ll stop at a thrift store on the way to my mother’s, I told him as we got in the car. (We visited my mom for Christmas today) I’m sure I can find some jeans, hopefully just the right color, ones that look just like yours.
But there’s some spots of paint on Jon’s pants, the blue from our ceiling in the dining room and some salmon from the table. That’s impossible to replicate.
He hasn’t agreed yet, but he’s open to the discussion. I may have to pay dearly, but what ever we agree on, I know it will be worth it.
Oh what I do for my art.