My mama is an amazing quilter. As far back as I can remember she has been creative with her hands--quilting, crocheting, tatting, sewing, or embroidering. Her hands have always been busy. I still have a poncho she made for me when I was a kid. Crocheted in blue and white, my color choices at the time, and it's still wearable. What I love most of what's she created are her quilts. She comes from a long line of quilters. Her mother, grandmother and up the line have quilted. It's something she loves. At family reunions, like the photo above from the last one, they raffled off homemade quilts. It's a fierce battle between relatives as we all want to win the quilts.
When she moved back to Oklahoma, the thing she loved most was getting together with her aunt and cousins and quilting. They'd get together, sew and talk gossip and laugh. She loves her family. My great aunt Sadie is in her, gosh late 80s, and still sews a mean top piece.
I've tried to quilt. It's not my passion, since I'm as creative and talented as a duck in the desert. But I wanted to try what I could to share the process with my mama. I'd call her up with the questions and challenges I face as I attempt my first quilt. There's a bit of pressure on you when you have a woman in your life who is so dang talented. It is intimidating. But mama laughs and gives me advice. I've threatened to send her all the pieces I have just so she can shake her head over and laugh herself silly.
All this changed on Memorial Day. My mama had a stroke. She refused to go to the hospital for three days. Because of her Okie stubborness, she has residual damage that probably won't go away. Her left side is paralyzed. She can't use her left hand or leg. She went through rehab and now is in a nursing facility near her home. My dad visits her every day.
Mama can't quilt anymore. Nothing has broken my heart more than the thought of her not being able to keep her hands busy. To create beautiful quilts that express how creative she is and to know she can not do it anymore is a crime.
I haven't had the heart to go into my sewing room since her stroke. My enthusiasm has dimmed. I can never be as wonderful at quilting as my mama has been. She is a true artist.
I love you, mama.
