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Text from Sweet Clara and the Freedom Quilt by Deborah Hopkinson |
Then one night the quilt was done. I looked at it spread out
in the dim light of the cabin. Aunt Rachel studied it for the
longest time. She touched the stitches lightly, her fingers
moving slowly over the last piece I'd added--a hidden boat
that would carry us across the Ohio River. Finally, they came
to rest on the bright star at the top.
She tried to make her voice cheery. "You always did like to
make patterns and pictures, Clara. You get yourself married to
Young Jack one of these days, and you two will have a real
nice quilt to sleep under."
"Aunt Rachel, I couldn't sleep under this quilt," I answered
softly putting my hand over hers. "Wouldn't be restful,
somehow. Anyway, I think it should stay here. Maybe others
can use it."
Aunt Rachel sighed. "But aine you gon' need the quilt
where you goin'?"
I kissed her. "Don't worry, Aunt Rachel. I got the memory
of it in my head."
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