UNTITLED poem

My neighbor is washing her windows,
And scrubbing and mopping her floors,
But my house is all topsy and turvy,
And dust is behind all the doors.

My neighbor she keeps her house spotless,
And she goes all day long on a trot;
But no one would know in a fortnight
If she swept today or not.

The task I am at is enticing -
My neighbor is worn to a rag -
I am making a quilt out of pieces
I saved in a pretty chintz bag.

And the quilt, I know my descendants
Will exhibit with credit to me -
"So lovely - my grandmother made it
Long ago in 1933."

But will her grandchildren remember
Her struggles with dirt and decay?
They will not - they will wish she had made them
The quilt I am making today.
Cynicky Phin

This will definitely be read often for inspiration, and it is so fitting that I came upon it today. Earlier this afternoon, my brother gave me his quilt that my little grandma made. She made us all one, but I used mine all the time and took pictures of my first baby with it. That one is a memory, but I have this one now...and when I took it out of the plastic zipped bag he was storing it in...ahh, it smelled just like gma's house. She passed at 98, twelve years ago, but to me she is still here and in my quilting, she lives on.

Wonderful post, quiltncrazy. It made me smile. The poem is sweet, but what made me smile was the mental picture of you pulling that old quilt out of its bag, and it smelling like your grandmother's house. That is such a rare thing, to smell something that takes you back in time. It is great that you inherited her love of quilting. Maybe many years from now, someone will pull one of your quilts out, smell it, smile, and think of you.

I love that, quiltncrazy!

I have a paisley print scarf of my grandma's, the one she wore every day, round her shoulders or over her head if it was raining (she died in 2004). I wish I'd kept it in a bag because her smell has all gone, although sometimes I think I can still get a faint whiff, but I think it's my imagination.

K x

love that poem. I like to think I am making memories.

Thanks for the reminder- I forget that we don't need to clean all the time, certainly cuts into the quilting time.

I have an apron of my Gram's. I can still picture her in it, bottom pinned up to hold a berry basket. Gosh, it's hard to believe she's gone 4 years. She was 106 when she passed away. She said she was tired.

barb

The poem is great. Thank you so much for sharing it with all of us!! :D

Thats a wonderful poem! Thank you for sharing it! Neither of my grandmothers quilted, however my grandfather's second wife does. She has given me 2 when I was much younger and she has encouraged my love for it now. I wish I could get a "whiff" of either of my grandmothers and really wish I could smell my Mom! They are all gone now. :(

camilla wrote:
Wonderful post, quiltncrazy. It made me smile. The poem is sweet, but what made me smile was the mental picture of you pulling that old quilt out of its bag, and it smelling like your grandmother's house. That is such a rare thing, to smell something that takes you back in time. It is great that you inherited her love of quilting. Maybe many years from now, someone will pull one of your quilts out, smell it, smile, and think of you.

aww, that's so nice of you camilla. If I am loved half as much as my little gma...she was a dear, and everyone that knew her felt that way.
Everyone in the nursing home loved her and everyone that worked there did special things for her. One guy would sing to her. She asked for him one time while we were visiting and he sang to her for all of us.
I hope I am remembered this way too. I hope we all are.

k3n wrote:
I have a paisley print scarf of my grandma's, the one she wore every day, round her shoulders or over her head if it was raining (she died in 2004). I wish I'd kept it in a bag because her smell has all gone, although sometimes I think I can still get a faint whiff, but I think it's my imagination.


k, it really is the little things like her scarf, that mean so much. I have a deep seated faith, that if you believe in something, that is your reality. :)

littlehud wrote:
love that poem. I like to think I am making memories.

littlehud, I couldn't agree more. :)