Holding my Grandson

            “You will always remember how it felt to hold that baby for the first time,” my mother tells me when I call her for the first time from Washington D.C. where we are visiting.  It is just what my mother would say.  She likes to remind me of these milestones from her 94 ½ -year old point of view because she has marked many such special moments.  She was the one that said to me when I was pregnant, “your life will change forever now”.  It did, of course, and I am now a grandmother.

            I have not held a newborn baby in decades and yet the crook of my arm just bends automatically to support Austin’s tiny head as he nestles comfortably against me for the first time.  I love him instantly, of course, as I take in the significance of this first meeting.  He is barely two weeks old and sleeps most of the time.  But when held he nestles comfortably, cooing occasionally like a little dove. Then his eyes will flutter open as if to check and see what is out there in the world he has been born into.  I marvel at how perfectly formed he is from his expressive lips that pucker occasionally as if in a kiss to his tiny tongue he sticks out when searching for something to suck on. His blue eyes are intense as he looks around not quite focusing completely on any one thing. Jessica says he has her frowning expression and Hayden’s perfectly large ears.  He was born with some dark spiky straight hair but in the daylight there are light tufts of blonde hair underneath reminding me of what a towhead Hayden was as a baby.  We all wonder what color will Austin’s hair be…curly or straight…brown or blonde? 

            I like to talk to Austin and in my own way I imagine introducing myself to him as someone who will be part of his life for a long time.  He has only been held by his parents and other grandparents, so this is special.  As tiny as he is I can feel his little heart beating strongly when I cuddle him. Today I discovered he likes to rest over one shoulder and can drift off with his head tucked into my neck.  He has that sweet new baby smell and skin as soft as velvet.

            As precious as he is to me, I love to watch his parents – Hayden and Jessica.  They are totally enthralled with him and he is never out of their sight.  He never cries because they are right there to anticipate what he needs – his feeding,  a diaper change, a tummy rub or a burp.  He is so indescribably loved as only your own child can be.

            I hold this new little grandson and know that I will have the joy of watching him grow up.  And I will now be the grandmother who will say to him someday “I remember exactly the first time I held you in my arms.”

Quilt Basics

            “Oh, it’s gorgeous, “ exclaimed everyone with genuine admiration as I held up my newly sewn together sampler squares with sashing.” The Beginning Quilt class that I am taking at the local community college has turned into more than just another continuing education class. My inspiration to learn to make a real quilt is my newborn grandson, Austin, and the stash of luscious bright cotton print material that Hayden and Jessica have given me from their frequent trips to African countries.  Perhaps because my grandson’s other grandmother crochets so beautifully and has already made several gorgeous blankets, was an incentive to consider it.  I had visions of becoming a skilled quilter without knowing what that might entail.

            I admit I did not take to quilting instantly.  In fact, I came home from the first class overwhelmed with handouts of seemingly impossible patterns for quilt squares that required measuring, math ability and spatial thinking. Quilting is all about attention to detail and the ability to visualize putting shapes together like a puzzle. Could I really do this?  I’ve never been a whizz at puzzles. I needed some specific tools that I didn’t have like rotary cutters, a cutting mat, and different sizes of special rulers – both square and rectangular and a walking foot for my machine which I'd never heard of. The easy way out would be to just cut squares and put them together as I’d done before… so perhaps I didn’t need a class. After all, I’ve been sewing all my life. But that isn’t real quilting.           

            I let my initial dismay simmer for a day or two until one morning  I went into my drawer of fabrics to see what I had.  Sara, the quilting teacher, advised us that directional prints aren’t easy to work with as a beginner, so I put those aside.  It was the luscious piece of celestial blue cotton fabric with dark blue and silver swirls that leapt out at me. Jessica had bought it in Cote D’Ivoire on her last business trip and given it to me for my birthday.  The silky feel to this unusual print suddenly became my inspiration. I was not sure what I was saving it for but I suddenly knew how I would use it.  Sara told us “find a piece of material you love and let it lead the way”.  Before I knew it, I was down at Foam and Fabric, in south Asheville looking for complimentary fabrics to go with it – a dark navy blue with a subtle pattern to bring out the swirls, a soft gray to complement the silver swirls, and even a Caribbean turquoise blue to bring out an accent in my main piece that I hadn’t noticed.  Putting together the colors excited me because I’ve always had a strong sense of how colors go together or don’t.  This would not be a cute baby quilt but an elegant one. It would be a one-of-a-kind, part African  handmade quilt, for Austin to crawl around on one day.

            Once I had invested in the fabric and the tools, which can be pricey, there has been no turning back. I set up my 30 year old trusty Singer sewing machine and practiced cutting squares and triangles with a rotary cutter until I got it right. Then I started following patterns for the 4 Bar Rail Fence Block, the Maple Leaf Block, Jacob’s Ladder. Flock of Geese, Arizona Block, Ohio Star Block, and others discovering it was fun to do.  

            Each week all of us in the class bring what we have worked on that week for “show and tell”. It is surprising how we have quickly bonded as we critique each other’s work.  “The colors are wonderful.”  “Look at the perfect points on those triangles.”  “That sashing is just the right compliment to bring out your other colors.”   “How did you do that? “Where did you find that pattern?  I love it.”  And so it goes each week as we get to know each other better.

I wonder if there is something in the nature of quilting that connects women in some invisible way.  After all, women have been quilting for hundreds of years both for the utilitarian aspect of making quilts but also for the friendships and support formed around a sewing circle. I had never experienced that but only read about it in novels.

 Today at “show and tell” I took out my nine-square sampler quilt in vivid blues with the navy sashing and turquoise corner squares I had worked hard on all last week. The warmth, genuine admiration, and acceptance I felt from this group was unlike anything I had experienced in a long time.
 “Hold it up so I can take a picture,” one woman said to me. "Tell us again where the fabric comes from... a country in Africa, right? Holding up my half finished quilt I suddenly felt good about myself.  I will miss this class and the group when it is over with but perhaps I will consider joining a quilting group.