SUNBONNET SUE
She lowered her reading glasses down to the tip of her nose peering at me with those warm, brown eyes. “Why’s my little Miss Sunshine so down tonight?”
Indeed I was
moody that Christmas clinging to my grandmother’s side and dogging her every
step.
“My new dolly is
lonely and cold,” I muttered.
“Maybe she needs
a blanket and some hot cocoa.”
“Uh, huh,” I
nodded.
“Fetch your doll teacups; I’ll make cocoa for
you and your doll.”
I complied returning
to her kitchen where she gingerly filled each teacup with steaming, rich hot
cocoa. She then turned to my mother and
me proclaiming, “Let’s make a doll quilt; we’ll have our own quilting bee—the
three of us—like in the old farm days.”
With that, we
scurried to my grandmother’s sewing room where she retrieved the Sunbonnet Sue
pattern and a box of scrap material; she carefully pinned different parts of
the pattern to material. Then, she
wrapped her hands over mine guiding them through the thick fabric. “This is how you cut out the fabric using the
pattern. Now, here’s the scissors; you’re
on your own…get started little lady!”
After carefully cutting out six bonnets,
skirts, arms, and feet, my grandmother propped me up on a stool as I watched her
and my mother sew the pieces together.
Her sewing machine hummed and evidently slowly sang me to sleep.
So, the next
morning I awoke with my doll lying next to me wrapped in a cherished memory—a
Sunbonnet Sue quilt of pinks, yellows, reds, and calicos. A few months later, my dear grandmother died
unexpectedly of a massive coronary. Although
her death saddened me, both my doll and I remained covered by her quilt of joy
and love that warmed us like no other. Even
now—50+ years later—I still feel my grandmother’s eyes watching me and her
spirit guiding me. Sometimes when the
house is silent, I even hear her voice—golden threads of wisdom and
encouragement—and am reminded that our lives are like quilts—bits and pieces,
joys and sorrows—stitched together with love.
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