The best gift ever

My mother gave me a gift the other day.
A big old bundle she pointed to,
that she had been saving for me.
She said she made it herself.

I walked over to my hand made bundle.
All cloth, all white, with bits of color,
here and there, and here and there.
All folded over and over on itself.

It was a quilt, a big quilt, all hand made.
King sized, she said it was,
as I lifted the soft, white folds.
"I made it for me and your father."

I looked at the patterns on the face.
All in blocks, little ties, leading from the centers,
all like the ties my father used to wear.
Squares and squares of little ties.

Then it came to me, all of a sudden.
"I watched you make this, when I was a kid,
right there, in the living room!"
This was one of the many, she had made.

I helped her set up the frames back then.
I gave her the needles, and her cloth squares,
and pulled the fabric this way and that.
You could say I helped make this quilt.

So many memories come to me now, again.
All the conversations, all the jokes,
and all the moving hands around the quilt.
It felt like yesterday, almost forgotten.

Mom's quilts were filled with her love.
We all had one, like this one that
she made for Dad and herself.
We all loved them, and her, for making them.

I held up this bundled quilt to my face.
It was warm against my cheek, and
smelled all like being home again.
So much love filled me, almost to tears.

If anything, this was the best gift ever.
It's on my bed, keeping me warm and comfortable,
and wrapping me in Mom's love.
I sleep so well now, these nights.

I plan to keep this forever, and ever.
And one day, I might just pass it on
to one of my own children...maybe.
Thank you, Mom. Thank you, so much.