It's stitches are a bit imperfect. The small squares of cloth mismatched. And to be quite honest, it's accumulated a bit of dirt in it's day. But it is my quilt. My irish quilt. Shades of green and gold, patches of leprichans and four leaf clovers. And I love it so dearly much. It's been with me since... well nearly the age of seventeen. And has remained close to me prior to it's arrival in my life. It's been to sleepovers, camps, apartments, and cabin bedrooms. It's been on vacations, in suitcases, in boxes, and in backpacks. It's muffled my laughter, wiped my tears, and kept me warm on long lonely nights. Although beginning to look ragged and old, it's warmth has never faded. And as long as it is free of insignicance it shall remain a part of every travel I embark on. A small yet necissary item forever in the background of my extravegant life.
