floursack quilt
Found at Church Rummage Sale
On Green Lane in Manayunk
The Eastman Road Quilt
She said she had something to give me
& we climbed the stairs, past the
Shining paneled walls of the upstairs hall & she led me to the small door of the eaves.
In there, she said
In that box.
Go on, take it.
I protested. I don't want to take anything away from your family.
No, she said,
No one in my family made it.
The lady down the road did.
I thanked her again, and took in the pink vision.
Her own bed downstairs was covered by a butterfly quilt. She had said her mother had made it.
Gladys was 87.
When I helped her to bed for her afternoon nap, I would cover her with those colorful butterflies & smile.
I drove home that day, off the farm, off the cape, wondering which house, which lady made the quilt.
When I got home I laid it out. Admiring it's subtleties. It's pink variations, the red squares in the center. The green yarn.
The calico back.
I packed it away today, thinking
Of the big oak in Gladys side yard.
The eave where it was stored for all those years.
& I think of Gladys
Her garden & hydrangeas, fixing her food, eating in the pale purple dining room with the wood stove and her stories
& am so grateful of
Her generosity.
