Quilts -- colorful and usually comfy -- have always been a part of my decor. I love how they look draped over a chair, and there's nothing better than burrowing into the folds of a quilt when there's a chill in the evening air.

I almost reconsidered marrying my husband when I discovered he'd used an antique quilt -- made by his grandmother, I think -- to "protect" a backpack strapped on the back of his motorcycle. The beige and floral cotton was indelibly stained and splattered with grease when I discovered it in his apartment.

My heart was broken when I found it because I love old quilts. I see them as little novels of people's lives -- elaborate in their detail and telling in their content, repre senting history on a very personal level. They come from a long line of objects created by women (for the large part) living through the hardships of settling a new land.

Read the full article at Cleveland.com now.