My favorite quilt

A story about a sickly women who likes to make quilts.

When I was growing up, both my mother and grandmother liked sewing. They sewed, quilted, knitted, and crocheted. Quilting was always their favorite. Our house was always filled with quilts, made by old clothes, new clothes, spare pieces of fabric, curtains, table clothes, stuff like that. I had sunny yellow and green quilts for spring and summer time. Red, orange, and brown quilts for fall and winter. When I was sick, mother would break out the quilt with blue squares and a silky white border. There was so many patches, and none repeated. It was comforting to look at whilst battling fevers and colds.

I was sick a lot as a child. Even now, I still have a terrible immune system. I'm sick right now. Whenever I was sick, mother would sit in the pretty rocking chair by my bed and would work on her quilts. It was mesmerizing to watch her nimble fingers sew patches of fabric together in a randomized but perfectly complementary pattern.

As I eased into my teen years, I decided that I wanted to quilt. I really wanted to take on this seemingly hereditary hobby. Mother was very supportive, and I was very appreciative. At the time, though, I recall that I found her constant watching over me was very annoying. But now that I've matured, I recognized that she cared and was ecstatic about my interest in quilting. Though I wasn't very good at first, I got better.

And here I am in the present, still quilting. My fingers are so comfortable with my needle and thread. Quilting is the most comfortable thing in the world. Quilting is as easy to do for me as breathing is for other people. Whenever I'm sick, which is often, I quilt. Every day that I take off from work, I spend it quilting. But I'm not quilting now, even though I am sick. I'm not aloud to quilt anymore.

I don't much care for the place I'm in now. The room I stay in is colorless and cold. And nobody seems to like me much. They stare and whisper behind their hands. They don't talk to me, and it makes me sad. I like to talk to people.

When I came to this place, I was had nearly finished a new quilt.

It was going to be a special quilt. I was very excited. The patches were especially important. I spent so much time gathering them, and making them into a pattern on my grandfather's pelt backing. My grandfather always loved skinning the animals he killed and gave them to my grandmother to use in her own quilts. I thought it would be nice to use his pelts in my quilt.

I had the nearly finished quilt laid out the living room when they came to my house. I was putting the final patches from my mother, grandmother, and cousins, Annie and Caryn, on the quilt when the loud banging on my door started. It didn't phase me much, as I had many visitors. They would leave eventually if I didn't answer. I had just went back to sewing when they kicked down the front door.

A large group of people thundered down my hallway, yelling. It startled me, and I pricked my finger. A few drops of blood landed on my quilt. I was upset. You understand that, right? I spent so much time getting those fabric patches, only to ruin them.

The group stopped abruptly in the doorway. Their yelling stopped. I was glad, it was very quite rude. Their expressions changed from fierceness and to horror. Their eyes swooped around my living room, looking at my family members slumped at their spots on the couch and recliners.

One person read me the my Miranda Rights, while another handcuffed me. Despite me listening and obeying everything they said, they were quite rough with me.

Really, I'm confused. I didn't think I was a bad person. What did I do wrong?

I just wanted to make a quilt with my family.

© 2014 Johanna Rae Reyer

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Laminators Dubai

BRILLIANT. Something so simple and delicate can be that sharp to read?
first of all that's was an amazing story. Great example of love, care, respect and so more. heartfelt for a usual read like me and right now I'm thinking how did it end? There's have to be something more! Writing on this level of excitement must be interesting. I say That's a great job.