My great grandmother made quilts. Really made quilts. I can picture her, sitting in a rocking chair, carefully piecing her latest creation together. She had long, gray hair, always twisted up into a low bun and held in place with just pins. I always envied her that - my hair never wanted to be held in place.
Her quilts were made of necessity. They show me a woman who made everyday things beautiful, just because she could. A quilt is not hard to make if you only want to stay warm. She made it into an art.
I received one of her quilts when I was a little girl. It sat on my bed for years. It was almost two decades before I ever realized the importance of it. Today, BBJ got one of her very own. It actually matches the one that I have. I'll keep it for her, and I'll make sure she understands the importance of a quilt handmade by her great-great-grandmother.
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