When I was a girl, I had a quilt on my bed. I loved it. It was made from scraps from my mom's dresses that her mother made for her and her sisters. Sometimes my mom would sit on my bed and tell me about the dresses and things she remembered, like where she was living and how old they all were. Her sisters and her. My mom still has that quilt. It's threadbare now.
When I was having babies, my mom decided she wanted to start quilting. She made one for each of my babies; her grand babies. I love the quilts. They are all special. They all have a story.
Now Grandma has taken on the task of making a quilt for each of my brother's kids (who are older than mine) as they graduate from high school.
She's very ambitious.