She pieced this Double Wedding Ring quilt
for my aunt on her third wedding.
The quilt lasted longer than the marriage,
tossed in the back of the car for the dog to sleep on,
and so it came to me, sun-bleached and worn,
with all the fabrics of the 1950s,
calicos, ginghams, the binding torn,
my grandmother and aunt long gone.
I put the queen-sized quilt away,
well-wrapped in a pillowcase
for a decade or two.
Now I sit mending that binding,
turn needle and wonder
where I will find those well worn fabrics
to patch each missing square.
In the morning, my grandmother’s work
greets me, her arthritic hands are now my hands,
and I make quilts for my daughter.
|My Grandmother's Quilt c. 1955 (Camp 2013)|