Story Number 3!
So I've been horridly sick the last week and am just now getting my 52 Week Writing Challenge story up for you to read. (Truth be told, I just finished writing it two seconds ago.) This is for the third prompt "blue". I hope you'll enjoy it! And I'll just warn you now, this is probably going to be a busy week blog-wise, so keep coming back!
Blue
Jenn laid the freshly washed quilt down over her bed. Gently smoothing out the wrinkles, she allowed her fingers to linger over the hand-stitched pieces. A dazzling array of blues, Granny’s last project, shimmered over the spread. Memories were attached to each blue piece. Blue. She was feeling a little blue. As her eyes skimmed the bedspread, she allowed the memories of fabric to flow through her mind. Stars and snowflakes, spots and stripes, swirls and solids. Even teddy bears and flowers had made it onto the quilt. Nothing held any of the fabrics together except the presence of blue. Blues ranging from deep indigo to fluffy baby blue, from bright cerulean to dull slate. Some of the fabrics were older and others nearly new. She remembered trips with Granny to the quilt shops around town and through the country as she looked at the pieces. A smile tugged her mouth.
“What are you ever going to do with that?” she had asked teasingly as Granny picked up a soft flannel with little blue rattles, teddy bears and bibs.
“Why, make a quilt of course! What else would I do with it?” Granny had replied.
“Unless you know something I don’t, it will be a while before you need to make a baby blanket.”
Granny had winked with a laugh before going to the counter with the flannel tucked under her arm. Jenn still couldn’t figure out how Granny had known that merely eight months later, she would be wrapping Jenn’s precious baby boy in that soft quilt at the hospital.
She touched the piece of flannel before allowing her eyes to rove again. They fell on a bright blue patch with gold, glittery stars. She smiled as she remembered her baptism day, years before, when Granny had presented her with a star-patterned quilt made with white fabric and accented with the blue starry fabric.
“For my little star-gazer,” Granny had said, handing her the quilt. “Don’t forget that you are a star, just as bright as any other. Always let your light shine.”
The bedspread had stayed with her through school and followed her on to college. It wasn’t until she had married and the need for a larger quilt had come that the beloved star quilt had been neatly folded and put away to wait for her own child to use.
But not all the memories in the blue quilt were happy ones. There was a scrap of navy-blue velvet saved from making Gramps’ shadow box. A piece of baby blue from the casket quilt made when Jenn’s youngest brother had passed unexpectedly away.
Jenn sighed as she stood once more and smoothed the wrinkle she’d put in the quilt. Her memory carried her to working with Granny in her quilting room. “What’s this project for, Granny?” she’d asked.
“This is my last project, Jenn,” had come the reply. Granny stopped stitching for a moment to look at her granddaughter. “I’m not getting younger and I think I’m about ready to go home.”
Concern furrowed Jenn’s brow. “You’re not serious, are you?”
Granny laughed. “Don’t be so melodramatic, dear. I’ll go when the good Lord calls me. I’m just saying I’m ready. I’ve had a long life with ups and downs, just like this wacky pattern. What did they call it at the quilt shop?”
With a smile Jenn replied, “I wasn’t really paying attention. You quilt far more than I do.”
Chuckling, Granny said, “I suppose that’s true. Though I’m glad you take time to quilt with me. It’s not easy to do the stitches like it used to be.”
“You could do this with machine.”
“No I could not. Then it wouldn’t be handmade.”
Jenn shook her head with a smile as she sat down to help. “It would still be handmade, just not handstitched.”
“You can convince yourself that there’s a difference, but you’re not fooling me.” Granny was quiet a moment and then smiled, “Do you remember when I made that map quilt for your brother?” Her fingers pointed to a piece with swirly blue waves.
“Just before his mission, yeah, I remember. He wouldn’t let anyone else in the house touch it! How did you get a piece of it?”
“Don’t be silly, I don’t take apart good quilts. I always buy extra fabric, especially of the blue. I knew I wanted to do this years ago.”
“I thought buying extra fabric was your way of ensuring that you died with more material than any other quilter.”
Granny chuckled again. “Well, that might be part of the reason. A girl’s got to win at something.” They laughed together before she continued, “No, I’ve always known that I wanted to do a blue quilt like this. But I wanted it to be filled with memories.”
“Is that why every quilt you make has blue in it?”
“Now, I did not do baby girl quilts in blue. I made them pink, like any respectable quilter would,” she added teasingly and Jenn knew she was referencing the purple blanket Jenn had made for her daughter. “But I will admit that I took advantage of blue at any point I could. Blue is such an interesting color, don’t you think?”
“Well, it’s always been one of my favorites, but I’m not sure I understand why you think it interesting.”
“When people say they’re blue, they mean they’re sad. Blues music is jazzy, but usually with a sad note to it. But blue’s not really a sad color. It’s a calm color. A quiet color. I suppose some blues can be a little melancholy. Then again, on a clear, sunny day the sky is radiantly blue with nothing sad about it. Blue isn’t sad as much as it’s so full of everything else that people aren’t sure what to do with it. There’s memory in blue. Hope, peace, dignity, excitement even. And yes, I suppose there is a little touch of sorrow. Perhaps because not all memories are happy ones.”
The memory faded as Jenn touched the quilt one more time. Granny was right. The blue quilt she had made wasn’t sad. It filled her with wonderful memories of Granny. “I wish you could be here with me again,” Jenn whispered as she stepped quietly from the room, the blue quilt shimmering on the bed.
Blue
Jenn laid the freshly washed quilt down over her bed. Gently smoothing out the wrinkles, she allowed her fingers to linger over the hand-stitched pieces. A dazzling array of blues, Granny’s last project, shimmered over the spread. Memories were attached to each blue piece. Blue. She was feeling a little blue. As her eyes skimmed the bedspread, she allowed the memories of fabric to flow through her mind. Stars and snowflakes, spots and stripes, swirls and solids. Even teddy bears and flowers had made it onto the quilt. Nothing held any of the fabrics together except the presence of blue. Blues ranging from deep indigo to fluffy baby blue, from bright cerulean to dull slate. Some of the fabrics were older and others nearly new. She remembered trips with Granny to the quilt shops around town and through the country as she looked at the pieces. A smile tugged her mouth.
“What are you ever going to do with that?” she had asked teasingly as Granny picked up a soft flannel with little blue rattles, teddy bears and bibs.
“Why, make a quilt of course! What else would I do with it?” Granny had replied.
“Unless you know something I don’t, it will be a while before you need to make a baby blanket.”
Granny had winked with a laugh before going to the counter with the flannel tucked under her arm. Jenn still couldn’t figure out how Granny had known that merely eight months later, she would be wrapping Jenn’s precious baby boy in that soft quilt at the hospital.
She touched the piece of flannel before allowing her eyes to rove again. They fell on a bright blue patch with gold, glittery stars. She smiled as she remembered her baptism day, years before, when Granny had presented her with a star-patterned quilt made with white fabric and accented with the blue starry fabric.
“For my little star-gazer,” Granny had said, handing her the quilt. “Don’t forget that you are a star, just as bright as any other. Always let your light shine.”
The bedspread had stayed with her through school and followed her on to college. It wasn’t until she had married and the need for a larger quilt had come that the beloved star quilt had been neatly folded and put away to wait for her own child to use.
But not all the memories in the blue quilt were happy ones. There was a scrap of navy-blue velvet saved from making Gramps’ shadow box. A piece of baby blue from the casket quilt made when Jenn’s youngest brother had passed unexpectedly away.
Jenn sighed as she stood once more and smoothed the wrinkle she’d put in the quilt. Her memory carried her to working with Granny in her quilting room. “What’s this project for, Granny?” she’d asked.
“This is my last project, Jenn,” had come the reply. Granny stopped stitching for a moment to look at her granddaughter. “I’m not getting younger and I think I’m about ready to go home.”
Concern furrowed Jenn’s brow. “You’re not serious, are you?”
Granny laughed. “Don’t be so melodramatic, dear. I’ll go when the good Lord calls me. I’m just saying I’m ready. I’ve had a long life with ups and downs, just like this wacky pattern. What did they call it at the quilt shop?”
With a smile Jenn replied, “I wasn’t really paying attention. You quilt far more than I do.”
Chuckling, Granny said, “I suppose that’s true. Though I’m glad you take time to quilt with me. It’s not easy to do the stitches like it used to be.”
“You could do this with machine.”
“No I could not. Then it wouldn’t be handmade.”
Jenn shook her head with a smile as she sat down to help. “It would still be handmade, just not handstitched.”
“You can convince yourself that there’s a difference, but you’re not fooling me.” Granny was quiet a moment and then smiled, “Do you remember when I made that map quilt for your brother?” Her fingers pointed to a piece with swirly blue waves.
“Just before his mission, yeah, I remember. He wouldn’t let anyone else in the house touch it! How did you get a piece of it?”
“Don’t be silly, I don’t take apart good quilts. I always buy extra fabric, especially of the blue. I knew I wanted to do this years ago.”
“I thought buying extra fabric was your way of ensuring that you died with more material than any other quilter.”
Granny chuckled again. “Well, that might be part of the reason. A girl’s got to win at something.” They laughed together before she continued, “No, I’ve always known that I wanted to do a blue quilt like this. But I wanted it to be filled with memories.”
“Is that why every quilt you make has blue in it?”
“Now, I did not do baby girl quilts in blue. I made them pink, like any respectable quilter would,” she added teasingly and Jenn knew she was referencing the purple blanket Jenn had made for her daughter. “But I will admit that I took advantage of blue at any point I could. Blue is such an interesting color, don’t you think?”
“Well, it’s always been one of my favorites, but I’m not sure I understand why you think it interesting.”
“When people say they’re blue, they mean they’re sad. Blues music is jazzy, but usually with a sad note to it. But blue’s not really a sad color. It’s a calm color. A quiet color. I suppose some blues can be a little melancholy. Then again, on a clear, sunny day the sky is radiantly blue with nothing sad about it. Blue isn’t sad as much as it’s so full of everything else that people aren’t sure what to do with it. There’s memory in blue. Hope, peace, dignity, excitement even. And yes, I suppose there is a little touch of sorrow. Perhaps because not all memories are happy ones.”
The memory faded as Jenn touched the quilt one more time. Granny was right. The blue quilt she had made wasn’t sad. It filled her with wonderful memories of Granny. “I wish you could be here with me again,” Jenn whispered as she stepped quietly from the room, the blue quilt shimmering on the bed.
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