“I long to stretch out on the sofa, wrapping myself in the red quilt that’s lying there. Then, with a stab, I recognize the quilt. My father had brought it back from a business trip he took to New England long ago. Ironic, how objects remain in your life long after people have exited.”

“I long to stretch out on the sofa, wrapping myself in the red quilt that’s lying there. Then, with a stab, I recognize the quilt. My father had brought it back from a business trip he took to New England long ago. Ironic, how objects remain in your life long after people have exited.”

— Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni