One pillow, two sides ( bad photography). The poem below explains the pillow's origin. Technically the background fabric was from an old shirt, which had two distinctly different designs in colors that were almost the same. Each side of the pillow shows one of the designs. Using the same star pattern, each seemed to cry out for different colors. The pattern is one of Carol Doak's paper pieced designs.
This is a favorite that I have used several times.
Don't we all have ancient garments we love—
the ones we change into after a busy day
when we come home to relax?
My soft moccasins with indestructible
plastic soles have barely any shape after
many many years. Wearing them I see
the dinky shoe outlet store in Batesville,
Indiana, known for its casket factory.
Batesville also has a small hospital.
I had seen my mother; it would be the last time.
I needed something else to think about.
I bought bright pink suede slip-ons.
Old clothes tell stories. When Jack
blogged he hated to give up an old shirt,
much washed, much faded, he thought
he might toss it in the trash. His photo
showed lovely pale colors. I wrote, “No. Don’t.
Let me make something for you.” Sue,
shared my feeling. We have reincarnated
his shirt. She in fiber art, I quilted a cover
for a small pillow.
Garments and their owners grow old,
worn, softened, faded, tired.
Even when still loved some are
dumped in the garbage,
given to the thrift shop,
stashed in assisted living,
bedded in the nursing home
until a casket becomes the repository,
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