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Once Upon a Time,
A pair of hands began to make a patchwork quilt. The hands belonged to an old, old woman who lived in a cabin in the woods, sitting all day, rocking in her chair and sewing patchwork by the fire where it was warm and familiar.
One day, while her hands were making another quilt, they began to stitch something new. A Patchwork Girl was made, and as she played quietly by herself in her frame of patch, she looked up at the old woman and said, “Grandmamma, it’s quite lonely down here all by myself. I wish I had a brother to play with.”
The old woman gasped. “Oh, my! How right you are! A little patchwork girl needs a patchwork brother!” And so she stitched a Patchwork Boy for Patchwork Girl, and the two patchwork children were content for some time.
But one day, the patchwork children grew sad. Patchwork Boy turned to the old woman and said, “Grandmamma, it’s quite lonely down here just the two of us. As children we need a patchwork mother!”
The old woman gasped. “Oh, my! How right you are!” And began to stitch a patchwork mama for the children, and the little patchwork family was happy.
But the little family soon grew sad. “Mama,” Patchwork Mama said to the old woman. “It really is rather lonely here just the three of us. We could all use a patchwork Papa.”
The old woman gasped. “Oh, my! How right you are!” And quickly stitched together a tall patchwork man, who joined the family.
The Patchwork Family was at last content, and went on for months in the old woman’s house, until she came to the very last frame. And just before she finished, Patchwork Girl realized that something was missing in the family. So, very quietly, Patchwork Girl turned to the old woman.
“Grandmamma,” she said quietly. “It’s very happy here, but there’s someone missing.”
“Who, dear child? Who do you need?” The old woman asked, alarmed.
“Well…our Patchwork Family needs a Grandmamma.” The Patchwork Girl said quietly. “But…not just any Grandmamma. We need you.”
It is said that the old woman died that day, her stitching needle in her hand. But anyone who believes in the true love of a family will know that something different happened. Through some unknown magic of her own, the old woman put herself into the patchwork family, and lived happily, with her patchwork children, forever.
This bedtime story I wrote tells how I got my username, doesn't it? And as my sister's friend said: "Aw! It's so warm and fuzzy!"
 CheshireDaydreams · Sun Jan 06, 2008 @ 07:14pm · 0 Comments |
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