My Grammy and The Quilt That Was Never Mine

I was always a child that had to be doing something. I didn't care what it was, as long as my hands and mind were busy. That's not to say I grew up with much artistic creativity, but I'm still a girl who has to be doing something with my hands. This is probably why some of my fondest memories of childhood are from the time I got to spend with my Grammy. My great-grandmother passed away when I was ten years old, but she left me with some significant skills and memories. When I was very young she lived a couple of hours away. I don't have much memory her house, other than skipping rocks in the creek across the street, playing on her little home organ(or at least that's what I thought it was), and the room filled floor to ceiling with yarn, fabric, and crafts. I'm not exactly sure when she moved in with my grandparents, but once she did, I saw her quite often. When I was six, she started teaching me how to crochet. I wanted to learn, and she was ready to teach me, but there was no pandering to the "she's just a child" mentality. I have vivid memories of chaining, unraveling, and chaining again, over and over until my chains were perfect. She wouldn't move past those darned chains with me for months. By the time I was 9 I could crochet with perfect gauge and a perfect foundation. I now often go years between crochet projects, but I can still pick it right up without skipping a beat. Every time I see someone out in public crocheting, I am brought back to thinking of my Grammy. She was tough on me, but we bonded in a special way. I am thankful she demanded perfection, as I am better for it. She died before she was able to teach me to knit, so I am self taught. Unfortunately, my knitting greatly lacks in comparison to my crochet skills.

One other thing Grammy and I did together one afternoon was layout a double wedding ring quilt on the bed in my grandparents upstairs bedroom. She and I took great care to make sure each piece was in just the right place. She explained the entire quilting process that day to me.  I was probably only 7 or 8 years old, and when we were done laying it out, she said that the quilt would be mine someday. We only worked on it together that one day, but for whatever reason that quilt was special, maybe because we had worked on it together. When Grammy died, I was given two things that stick out in my memory ...a yarn winder and her case of crochet needles. I don't remember if I had the nerve then or a little later, but I asked my grandmother where the quilt was. When I described to her which one it was, she apologetically explained that she didn't know it was supposed to go to me and it had already been given to one of Grammy's grandsons. She gave me blocks that were made for another quilt, but they are long gone. They didn't hold any meaning, so right or wrong, they weren't anything cherished by me. To this day, I still think about the quilt that was never to be mine. I often think about asking the one grandson(there were two) who I am connected to through Facebook if he was the one who had gotten it and if he still has it, but I've never had the guts.

No matter what I do or don't have to hold in my hands from my Grammy, I have those special memories that no one can take or accidentally give away. I am thankful that she taught me perseverance and to strive for perfection. I love that I think of her often. I still have and use those same crochet needles. And for the record, double wedding ring quilts still rank in my top "love" list.