Painful Cuts

I am done with the painful cutting.

I usually love cutting a project;

I feel strides of accomplishment,

lovely progress.

But this hurt.

I am making a quilt from my girl's baby clothes.

I cried as I cut each piece

holding it to my face

hoping to find some trace of their smallness

some whimper, a cry

of the littleness that was once them.

But it is gone.

They are big

and fast and loud

and they  laugh and tell me jokes 

and make me laugh too

and make it easier to cut.

It took me over a year

of looking and pawing over the sweet memories 

before I took sharp objects to them.

(I did save a box for each girl of favorite dresses and outfits

which I hope they will pass on)

And finally I am finished cutting. 

I used only knit onesies

and so I backed each piece with webbing

and trimmed them to neat little shapes

and saved each little ruffle and button.

I can see the finished product 

(waiting for me in pieces)

and I am happy.

Giddy.

Excited that these little treasures will no longer be 

hidden in a bag or box.

They will warm my babies again.

Even if they're not babies anymore.