My mother passed away a few days before Mother’s Day 11 yrs ago. We buried her on Mother’s Day that year. She lived with me 9 yrs before she left us. The last 7-8 yrs of her life she sewed and quilted quilts daily for hours and hours at a time. All of us have at least one, some of us many. One morning I was rushing around to leave for work , probably 18-19 yrs ago, and I glimpsed through her open door my mom, in her room sewing. She seemed so small yet so full of something I couldn’t describe. There was intense focus on her face and I wondered what was on her mind.
The little descriptive story below I wrote at that very moment; I dropped my purse and grabbed a pen and paper and wrote as fast as I could in an attempt to capture what I felt as I looked at her, needle in hand. Like an artist with paint and a brush, I wanted to preserve all that was happening in that moment to keep it with me forever. Because I don’t believe for a minute that all she was doing was sewing. I love you mom, Happy Mother's Day.
Bright morning light, glowing, shining, fresh crisp newness. Birds call, a dog barks, somewhere near a horse neighs.
Front door slams after a last “bye mom”, and the usual busy, readying sounds cease except for my own. At last all is complete, assembled, collected, one last look around walking through rooms before I too depart.
Suddenly, through the door of her room I see a scene I have come to know so well. I stop, everything is hushed, and I drink in this picture so peaceful. In the corner next to the already made bed, just enough room to squeeze by, she is seated, needle in hand, intent look on her face.
Shoulders rounded from years of this intensity, fingers crooked, enlarged; filled with patience I do not yet own. Tiny scraps pale, bright, some just because “it seemed to need it". Arranged, measured, trimmed, tried out. One stitch….another, another. Stitches, patches, minutes, hours. Daily purpose. Daily realization. A life time.
Carefulness, exactness, mistakes painfully corrected. Slowly, one piece at a time, a pattern, a design, a whole work completed; like life. Something to leave behind, some tangible gift to give. Don’t forget me, I laughed, I loved, I cried, I endured. Remember what I loved, what I believed in. Don’t forget what is really important. Life, love, family, friends.
What thoughts accompany the making of this quilt? What memories, love, prayers, worries, conversations?
Snuggle under its warmth, coziness, softness. Smell the fresh newness, the aged scent of love. Tell me, is it really only fabric, thread and stitches?
I linked at Bible Love Notes.
*Join me in June 2012 for my new link up party, Wow Us Wednesdays.*
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