My grandmother’s quilt

I’ve spent the last month of evenings re-sewing the quilt my grandmother gave me when I was in my 20’s. She’d given a quilt she’d made herself to each of her granddaughters that year. It was a patchwork of all the scraps she’d saved, many reminding me of the garments she’d made for us.

I treasure that quilt. I’ve mended it twice since. As I sat mending it this time, I felt a connection to my grandmother I hadn’t noticed the first time I’d mended it. I saw the stitches she made and felt a physical link to her through those stitches.

Feeling her physical presence in the threads of her quilt reminded me that the link I have with her never really leaves, that I have access to her whenever I need it. That’ I’m blessed with her presence along with that of all the people I was close to at some time in my life.

Mending my quilt was like mending that link. So nourishing.

Quote of the Week

“We’re all ghosts. We all carry, inside us, people who came before us.”
― Liam Callanan, The Cloud Atlas

 

Our grandmothers dress