Bulging red rubber tubs of decorations were scattered around the living room of my log cabin as I prepared for the holidays: Christmas lights and ornaments for the tree, red and green candles for the windows, holly for the fireplace.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d wrestled the tree into its stand. Now I needed a quilt to spread around the bottom for a skirt.<\/p>\n
I went to the linen cupboard. One quilt immediately caught my eye: a hand-stitched antique. Do I really want to put this on display?<\/em> I thought as I pulled it out. The one she gave me? <\/em><\/p>\n \u201cShe\u201d was Mrs. Messner, my ex-husband\u2019s mother. In 25 years of marriage I never got comfortable enough with her to use her first name. Our relationship was always tense, but then she did something I could never forgive her for.<\/p>\n Just looking at the quilt\u2014hand-stitched by Mrs. Messner\u2019s mother\u2014made me furious all over again.<\/p>\n Twenty years ago I was scheduled for a medical procedure that would take me away from home, and my husband was coming with me. That meant we needed a babysitter for our beloved dog, Muffin. \u201cI\u2019ve got a fenced-in yard where she can play,\u201d Mrs. Messner offered.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re sure you\u2019ll keep a close eye on her?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI promise,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n She promised, <\/em>I thought angrily, shaking out the quilt. For all that was worth. Two days after we dropped Muffin off, Mrs. Messner called to report that our dog had gone missing. Apparently she hadn\u2019t been at Mrs. Messner\u2019s an hour before she slipped out of the yard and ran away.<\/p>\n She wasn\u2019t even wearing her collar because I\u2019d neglected to put it back on after giving her a bath. Of all the terrible times for Muffin to have been without her collar!<\/p>\n I searched the neighborhood, going door-to-door with pictures of Muffin. Mrs. Messner had put signs up: LOST DOG $5 REWARD. Five dollars! That was all Muffin was worth to her. It infuriated me all these years later.<\/p>\n Weeks went by with no sign of Muffin, and I had to accept the fact that she was never coming back. \u201cCould you tell me what happened that day?\u201d I asked Mrs. Messner. \u201cWhat was she doing when you last saw her? Do you have any idea how she got out of the yard? Did you forget to latch the gate?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cQuit upsetting everybody about that dog, Roberta,\u201d she snapped. \u201cYou\u2019ve got me so worked up I\u2019m getting hives. Just go out and get yourself another dog.\u201d I was stunned. Speechless. Another dog? That was her solution? How could that woman be so cruel?<\/p>\n Muffin didn\u2019t mean anything to her, and she didn\u2019t care what Muffin meant to me. I got down on my knees and yanked the quilt around the tree.<\/p>\n Mrs. Messner\u2019s quilt was the perfect accent, but I couldn\u2019t appreciate it anymore. All I could think about when I looked at it was my 20-year-old grudge. I didn\u2019t need that at Christmas.<\/p>\n As I folded the quilt back up, a new thought popped into my head. More like a command, really: Give the quilt back to Mrs. Messner.<\/em><\/p>\n Where had such a crazy idea come from? I would have laughed if I wasn\u2019t so angry. Why should I give Mrs. Messner anything? I stuck the quilt back in the linen cupboard and chose another for the tree skirt.<\/p>\n The quilt\u2019s a family heirloom. Surely she\u2019d like to have it back. I couldn\u2019t quiet the voice in my head no matter what I did. Since Mrs. Messner\u2019s mother had died, I supposed it made the quilt all the more special to those who loved her. But giving it back would mean having to speak to Mrs. Messner.<\/p>\n I tried to imagine calling her. What would I say? I stared at the phone.<\/p>\n Wish her a blessed Christmas. <\/em>The voice was hard to abide. So now I was not only supposed to do something nice, but say something nice too? That was too much. I vacuumed stray needles around the bottom of the tree. I finished decorating and put away the empty tubs. Thoughts of Mrs. Messner nagged at me.<\/p>\n I went back to the cupboard and took her quilt out again. The Christmas lights illuminated the careful stitching, a perfect 12 to every inch. A lot of love went into this quilt,<\/em> I thought.<\/p>\n When Muffin disappeared, what hurt the most was thinking Mrs. Messner didn\u2019t care how much Muffin meant to me. Was I doing the same thing with this quilt? It was made with a love Mrs. Messner could appreciate far more than I could. And it was Christmas, after all.<\/p>\n I picked up the phone and dialed. \u201cMrs. Messner?\u201d I said when she answered. \u201cThis is Roberta. I was just admiring that lovely quilt your mother made. The one you gave me.\u201d<\/p>\n I paused hopefully, but was met with silence on the other end of the phone.<\/p>\n