The handmade quilts at my grandmother Josephine's home were a kaleidoscope of variegated colors, each piece cut into distinctive shapes that seemed to tell their own story. Heavy and substantial, they felt like a warm embrace, making it difficult for my small, slender body to move beneath their weight. On those brutal winter nights in the outskirts of Amite, Louisiana, the place we called home. The quilts were more than just bedding—they were a lifeline, a fortress against the unforgiving cold.
The blankets in her home were more than mere coverings; they were woven with love, a tangible expression of her care. Each stitch carried the warmth of her heart, a deliberate effort to protect and comfort those she cherished. The handmade quilts, with their intricate patterns and vibrant colors, were not just functional but artistic treasures, stitched together to create masterpieces that embodied her devotion.
It's not just the quilt; it is the beautiful memories of our loved ones who have passed away. Those quilts hold the stories of many who joined in to make them. It was a time when women gathered, sharing conversations, problem-solving, and planning actions to keep their homes and community families together.
If anyone in St. Helena, Washington, East Feliciana, Livingston, and Tangipahoa parishes would like to share their story and images of the quilt for a story, please email me at nurturingourroots@gmail.com.
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