the quilt I made in the late 60s for my teen age son is worn and tattered on the top. The back was a sheet -- still perfect. I have it back to "repair" He took it to college and always slept wrapped up in it like a mummy. It had a lot of washings. He even took it to Russia when he was an exchange camper teaching baseball to Red Guard boys.
He told me that the adults were fascinated by the quilt. Someday I will "repair" the top -- perhaps by making a whole new top and covering the original. I like to think that a quilt has memories of all the happy times that it has seen.
Mim