The Quilt Inn Country Cookbook

Aliske Webb

The Quilters

We didn’t have much money growing up. I never really noticed its lack. Every

Summer I went to a cool small town where Grandma lived while my Dad sweated it out

in the city.

When I was five, I thought my Grandma was the only woman in the world who

quilted. She was a magician. I watched her cut scraps of fabric and arrange the multi-

colored shapes like fabric tiles in a giant jigsaw puzzle. She’d let me help sometimes

if I wasn’t too fidgety. Then she would start to sew them all together. Piece by piece.

It took too long so I went out to play.

When I was ten, Grandma took me to the church basement where a dozen of

her friends gathered around a creaky wood frame. I was surprised that Grandma had

taught all these other women to play her colorful game. They sat and quickly stitched

the quilt with fine straight stitches. They let me make iced tea and bring them cookies

and thread their needles until my eyes were too tired and cross-eyed to see. As they

talked and laughed, I went to sleep on a pile of musty smelling pillows. Grandma would

wake me and I’d stumble sleepily home in the dark with her.

When I was fifteen, going with Grandma was more of a duty than anything. It’s

not that I didn’t love her, you know. It was just that I wanted to be out doing other things.

And besides they had this real annoying habit. By then I had my own place at the

quilting frame. They would just get into talking about something really interesting and

juicy, when someone would clear their throat and tilt their head ever-so-slightly in my

direction. Like deft jugglers they would briskly turn the conversation to something else.

Walking home in the dark, pestered with my questions, Grandma never could seem to

recall what they had been talking about.

When I was eighteen, I was lucky to get a night job at Miller’s Dairybar to help

out with college tuition. When I was sorry I couldn’t go quilting with Grandma, she said,

“Don’t worry. Your education is more important. You’ve spent enough time hanging

around with us old ladies.” Two days before I left for college, Mr Miller said, “Take

tomorrow off. You worked hard all Summer,” and he gave me my last paycheque.

Published by Bookmice.com

Country Cooking