Stitched

A Gifted Quilt

At the bottom of my bed lies a folded pink and cream quilt. I imagine it was once white but time had changed it. It doesn’t really match my light green walls and “Boho Chic” comforter. In fact, it looks a little out of place here in the 21st century. Out of sorts in a time where you have the world at your fingertips, the age of social media and everything being “smart”. 

If only the stitches could talk, if the pink panels told stories or the white edges could paint a picture of what once was. 

Decades ago my great-great-grandmother made this quilt. Her name was Hattie and she was born in rural Alabama in 1864. 1864,  the year when Abraham Lincoln was reelected president and the Civil War was still raging on. She gave it to her daughter who gave it to my grandfather and last Christmas it ended up with me. 

When deciding on the pink fabric she’d never have guessed that it would one day belong to a great-great- granddaughter whose favorite color is pink. When hand stitching and tying thread it never would have crossed her mind that 86 years after her death it would be sitting on the bed of a relative she would never meet.

  When making it I wonder if in the back of her mind she was making it for me. Not knowing who specifically but knowing some generations later a girl with blood that tied back to hers would have it and would cherish it. 

I wonder if she even thought about where it would end up, whose hands would pass it down. Maybe it never dawned on her that it would outlast her, that it would be a tangible legacy. 

I’ll never know anything more about Hattie besides her husband’s and children’s names. She’ll forever be just one character on a tall family tree. Even though I like to imagine, I’ll never really know what her life was truly like. Living in the country, raising many children and apparently making quilts. 

I’ll never know if the blanket was a gift or a necessity. I’ll never know if pink was her favorite color too. 

One day generations from now my name will be added to the list of owners of this pink quilt and whoever it ends up with will ponder its origin and wish they knew the story behind every stitch. 

Until then Hattie I’ll keep it safe and cherish it always,
Your great- great-granddaughter Keilee