Cutting fabric up and sewing it back together again has long been therapy for me. My first quilt was made during my first year of sobriety and gave me something to obsess on.

Over the years I don’t know how many quilts I’ve made, but I know there have been a lot. I wish I had kept track or at the least taken a photo of each.

I also don’t know when I started making quilts for those I’ve loved and have died, but I did and it continues.

Therapy. I feel I can tell a story with the fabric and sewing gives me time to think and remember.

Peet’s quilt is almost finished. I’ve struggled with Kim’s and feel I need to start fresh, but the last few days I’ve been gung ho and dads quilt has come together quite easily.

As I sorted fabric for dads memory the name of the quilt – It’s Complicated came first and the rest followed.

I never make a plan when I start a quilt – It would probably make it easier in the long run with less seam ripping involved. But, that is how I create. I jump in and start cutting up fabric. When I don’t like how its going, I rip it apart and start again and as I go, I tell a story.

It’s Complicated has a huge centre, a big ego, is busy and full. Around it in supporting roles are wives and children — hangers on and only a part of the quilt because I want them to be!

Salute father mine – I present the top of It’s Complicated.