Category: Family Quilt

In a world where everything glittered, I was the polish that made it shine brighter. Or at least, that’s what I was raised to be. Perfection wasn’t an option; it was an expectation. My mother didn’t just demand it—she built it, sculpted it, shaped it into every inch of my being. I was her finest…

If there was one word people used to describe me as a child, it was stubborn. I had opinions, and I made sure everyone knew them. If I wanted something and someone told me no, I didn’t just accept it—I fought for it. Loudly. Dramatically. Sometimes with tears, sometimes with arguments that made absolutely no sense…

After my grandmother died, my aunt and I cleared out her home. It was a very tiny place, and we liked to refer to it as a cottage. There wasn’t much space, but it took my aunt and me about two years to fully empty it due to the sheer amount of stuff my grandmother…