The Treasure Chest

Today I went to visit one of my senior friends. Its was her that inspired me to join the local quilting group.
Sometime ago when I visited her I told her of a scrappy quilt sewing machine cover we were going to be making. I told her I wasn't going to be make one tho, cux I don't have a stash of scrappy fabric to use.
"Well she did" she explained as we hiked up her steep stairs toward an old trunk. She stuffed several handful of tiny pieces of fabric into a plastic grocery bag. She explained how she made scrappy quilts. She had boosted my confidence as I trotted off with the bag in hand.
And, so today when I visited her (she now lives in a senior care center) I was sure my completed "scrappy quilted sewing machine cover" would bring a smile to her face. I was wrong. It brought tears. She told me my quilt was her life history. She pointed out the fabric pieces she had used to make her son's shirts. She saw the ones she had made her daughters little dress' with. And, the ones she make a square dancing outfit with, as I pictured her deceased husband dancing to "swing your partner". She saw the one she made herself a beautiful suit with. To break the silence I added that I saw several that reminded me of my grandmothers aprons.
I remember the old chest upstairs of this lady's house that was filled with little tiny scraps of left over fabric. Now, I had seen in her eyes it wasn't just a chest. It was a treasure chest filled with her memories.
My little quilt will never mean as much to me as those memories mean to her. I will think of her each time I quilt and hope I put into my quilts what I now know that she puts into hers.