It was a big box, but not heavy enough to be filled with fabric. I didn’t recognize the name on the return label, I wasn’t expecting it.
I cut open the box in the darkness of the dining room and peered inside. Through the faded amber glow that filled most of the box, I could just barely make out the aged white fabric and hand stitching. I felt like I had opened a cupboard door in an abandoned house and found a treasure lovingly preserved.
I reached my hand into the box breaking the spell and pulled out one neatly folded quilt only to see there was another beneath it.
It wasn’t until I got them outside, in the light of day, that I saw their true beauty. Soft pink and gray triangles gave quiet life to the traditional quilt patterns. The quilts whispered. Emotion swelled inside of me like a thin fog sifting through my body. I let myself feel it, tears welling in my eyes.
“Our sister has seen some of your work with other quilts.” The note from Iowa read “We are in the process of going through some of our parent’s things. I hope you can put these to good use.”
I know these quilts have meaning for Karen and Sharon who signed the note and their sister who suggested giving them to me. They took time and considerable expense to send them.
Their sister knows enough about my work to trust them to me. Maybe she knew I would be able to hear, to feel their story.
And now I get to combine their message with mine to make something new.