Saturday, October 24, 2009

Piece By Piece

A cold upstairs bedroom, tucked beneath a thick comforter and one of mother's wonderful quilts, winter sleeping was cozy and warm. The comforters were thick and light. I can still feel the touch against my face. On a cold winter's night, it was pure bliss.

Mother had several quilts all with memories attached to them. An old quilt made for my mother by her mother was embroidered with the year that it was given to her. Now it resides on the back of my sofa, the velvet patches thinning while the silk pieces have fallen apart. My granddaughters love to look at the old pieces. We talk about the type of clothing that must have been sewn with each different type of fabric.

Another quilt is the one my grandmother made for me. Each of her granddaughters have one of her quilts. Hanging over the end of my bed, a loving memory from a grandmother I barely knew.

I have a quilt that is a family heirloom. Once a small quilt, in later years it was edged with new quilting creating a larger guilt to fit a full-sized bed. The quilting matches yet the ages of the white fabric have aged differently. Old quilts were not replaced they were added to and handed down.

The last quilt is falling apart. It was a favorite of mine when I was a child. I have no idea who made the quilt. Many of the pieces, I assume, were from clothing made of old feed sacks. I remember as a child looking at all of the pieces picking my favorite.

Shades of blue, tiny flowers, gingham checks, pieces of my family's history in fabric. Treasures. Stories for future generations.

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