By: Tiffanie Helterbrand
The smell of soup beans and cornbread wrap around me
like a warm, comfortable blanket.
Papaw is in the kitchen, because its Granny’s sewing day.
Sitting atop the cedar chest
with my feet inches from the floor
I am ready for my lesson.
She’s bent over her sewing chair, looking for that perfect thread.
I can’t take my eyes away, from the chairs hidden drawer.
I know that any second now, the bulging remnants will burst
And they won’t lay there in secret anymore.
Her fingers carefully search and find the spool
without disturbing the other treasures inside.
It’s time to begin patching pieces of memories together
and the Singer begins to whir.
As I slide onto her crafty throne
my heart pumps, my palms sweat, my knees shake.
My eyes lock onto hers saying,
“Granny, please help me.”
Gracefully her hands glide over and under the squares
of old, worn-out clothes.
Then placed in my hand, is a piece of dads’ favorite shirt,
that was left behind for Granny to wear, when he was sent to Vietnam.
My heart began to slow its pace, as we stitched together my families memories
sitting in that sewing chair.
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