I remember this from when I was a little girl.

I was a restless child. Always on the go. A handful.

When it was nap time… I didn’t wanna!

In order to calm myself and drift off to sleep I would trace my fingers around the fabrics stitched in the quilts my grandmother had made.

Slowly tracing my little chubby fingers over the stitches. Calming. Listening to Grandma and whoever was in the kitchen starting on dinner for the farm hands. Clattering of pots and pans, water running, footsteps. Relaxing.

Eventually, I’d settle down and fall asleep.

I’ve wanted this trunk and my grandmothers quilts since I can remember. My father said I couldn’t have it because HE wasn’t finished with it yet. It meant a lot to him too.

He’s gone now and my mother has moved to a smaller home. She couldn’t keep the trunk any more. She said that if I didn’t want it that she’d have to put it in storage. I think it would get ruined there.

I don’t really have the room for it but I’d be heart broken if it got ruined. So now it’s mine.

It’s beat up. Seen a lot of wear. A lot of life. The quilts, some of them, are only threads held together by luck and smelling like moth balls.

But I don’t care. It means a lot to me. It represents my family history.   I LOVE IT!!

By the way, my grandmother who made the quilts was Dixie Jarvis O’Dell. Curious about the Jarvis side of my family?

Read more here in this book The Legend of Mammy Jane written by my cousin Sibyl J. Pischke.