She doesn’t know I’m posting this. I feel so sneaky. My mother is sitting in my flat at this moment, peacefully reading a book, having crossed an ocean alone to help us welcome Harriet into the world. She has lavished love on our little Norah, caring for her while we went to hospital. Meals appear, laundry is folded, things are cleaned, and comfort is given. I turn my head to look at the kitchen and she appears with tea. I’ll lethargically think about changing the baby and SuperNana sweeps in and does it. I want her to stay forever.
I sometimes like to write about artists and craftspeople on this blog and today I couldn’t resist the urge to showcase another one: my mother. She has taken up quilting in recent years, and the exquisite results of her handiwork grace the homes of friends and relatives. She has made each of her granddaughters a beautiful baby quilt. Heirlooms, really.
For Norah Jane, 2008
For Harriet Dyne, 2010