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"I wish I knew how to knit or crochet or quilt. I bought a how-to book, but I think I need a class. My grandmother Milly (my mom&amp;amp;#8217;s mom) was an artist in that arena. I can still see her sitting in the corner of the floral-print couch, with one leg resting on the oval coffee table, that always had a bowl of mixed candies (peppermints, licorice, lemon drops) on it. She taught me the basics and I can remember making necklaces and bracelets of fuzzy yarn, but nothing as substantial as say, a baby blanket. And she was the go-to-gal for baby blankets. Every new life got an Original Milly. My grandmother died my freshman year of college. I was on Spring Break and we planned to spend the day together. We had our usual lunch: macaroni salad with bite size pieces of celery and just enough mayo and pepper (I can see JD fingering elbow macaroni in his highchair with my mom to the left of him), tuna with a dash of sweet relish, salad and cold cuts. Her iced tea (just from a powder mix) always tasted extra sweet and even though I was nineteen, I still salivated over dessert, plain-old chocolate pudding with Cool Whip, but a fine delicacy, because from as long as I can remember there was always pudding and Jell-O waiting for my brothers and I, and part because she fixed it in these little, white bowls (always in those bowls). After lunch we settled on the couch&amp;amp;#8212;me with Vogue (I remember) and her with the clicker&amp;amp;#8212;Days Of Our Lives was on in five. And that&amp;amp;#8217;s when it happened. She died&amp;amp;#8212;suddenly, quickly and without warning. One minute she was there, the next she was gone. I called 911&amp;amp;#8212;it was too late. All alone with no recourse until the ambulance arrived, I sat with her&amp;amp;#8212;just sat with her, tears staining my cheeks. Later on that evening the family gathered at her home. I noticed a couple of finished works in the basket near her corner of the couch. I didn&amp;amp;#8217;t ask my mother or uncles for permission&amp;amp;#8212;I took what was there. At home, I realized what I&amp;amp;#8217;d taken&amp;amp;#8212;two baby blankets (one pink and cream, one blue and white). I was nineteen and despondent&amp;amp;#8212;my grandmother took her last breath in front of me. Part of me was thinking I could have saved her. I just let her die. That&amp;amp;#8217;s when I snickered out loud to myself: What do I need these for? Was I hoping for a scarf? A throw? Seven years later, when I packed up my room to move into my apartment I found them folded on a shelf in my closet. I wasn&amp;amp;#8217;t even quite sure what the bundles were until I pulled them down and they revealed themselves&amp;amp;#8212;soft, fuzzy squares of color. The day came rushing back to me. What do I need these for? JD. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.glamour.com/sex-love-life/blogs/storked/2007/08/an-original-millyevery-new-lif>