The Christmas Quilt

It is almost Christmas. Less than a week away in fact. Since it is really cold outside I have decided to spent the day inside, tending the fire to keep the house warm and keep the heater from coming on again. I have the History channel on, but I’m not really paying attention to it. I am letting my mind wonder a bit to Christmases’ past. Several I remember happened in the sixties. One Christmas day it was so hot out, that we all had shorts on! I can still hear my one Uncle kidding my Dad about having to cut the grass.

But just a few years latter, we had a very unexpected snow storm. That one I remember with more detail. The whole family decided to go to the store to get those last minute things that always come up. When we left the house, it was cool out, 50’s, and no storm was expected at all. We were in the store about an hour or so when people started to make a mass exit from the building. We looked out and were surprised to nothing but white. Time to head for the car and home. Didn’t make the car, to many accidents on the ice and snow! So we walked home, about 2 miles. None of us were dressed for a winter storm at all. That was one long, cold, slippery walk. I think we ended up with about a foot and a half of snow that year for Christmas.

Another one that I will never forget was the year I made and gave my older brother a quilt for Christmas. I worked on it after school and weekends. It was started in October and the last stitch was put in on Christmas eve. I used pieces of material from clothing that any member of the family would recognize. My Grandmother apron, my grandfather’s shirt, Dad’s pajamas, etc, etc. the backing was fake fur of a reddish color. The quilt was knotted using a gray yarn. The colors were chosen because of his school colors, high school and college.

Christmas morning, everyone is opening their presents. My brother, not finding anything from me under the tree, jokingly (?) said something about me being to cheap to get him something. With that I reach behind the sofa and grab the quilt which I then throw at him. He slowly opens it out to see that it is queen size and that he knew where each piece of material came from. With a tear in his eye, he asks if it is for him and did I make it.

A few years later, my brother married and a few years after that they started their family. I can remember visiting them one fall and hearing my niece ask my Mother to “read” the quilt to her. The quilt was made at least forty years ago, so I don’t think it is still around. But that year, the year of the quilt, I got the present of a life time. I made my brother cry and I caused him to be speechless at the same time.