Quilts With Memories Sewn Into Them

My mother sewed this wall hanging to match a quilt she'd completed for me about thirty years earlier. It's the last thing she made for me.

My grandmother never quilted that I knew of, but then one day my mom told me that Grandma had made a quilt and asked if I wanted it.

The lady on the television program said anyone could make this quilt block, even without a pattern. So I tried. She was right. Made several of the blocks, and then, well, stalled. I took the blocks to Mom and said, "I'm through with this." I thought she'd put them together and give it away at our next family reunion. 

The next time I went to see her, she'd put the pieces together and made a tiny quilt. She asked me if I wanted it. I was thrilled. The little quilt is draped over my treadle sewing machine.

The sewing machine has almost as many memories connected to it as the quilts I own.

In my teens, my finger got in the way of the needle and the needle went through my fingernail. I went straight to mom to get her to stop the pain. "That's just one of the things that happens when you sew," she explained. I eventually recovered.    

One of my first memories is of Mom tying a dark scrap of fabric and a lighter colored scrap of fabric on the belt of the machine and telling me one was a fox and one was a rabbit, and to watch the fox chasing the rabbit, and then she'd start sewing and...I was fascinated at first, but I don't think it held my interest quite as long as she wanted it to.

Somewhere along the way, the quilt blocks and sewing made more than I realized. They made keepsakes and memories I cherish.