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.
