I sleep under my Grandmother's quilt. It is nice, sleeping under something she made. We weren't too close, she lived far away, in Kentucky, but I never realized how much she loved me until after her funeral, when we went to her house, for a wake. I looked at her refrigerator door, and saw that she had framed magnets of all of her Grandchild right there, on the door. She looked at me every single day. I wish I had called her more.