The Way I Know My Grandmother Was a Witch

My mother saved my baby clothes and blankets. She waited 38 long years to give them back to me so I could give them to Gabrielle.

I have several baby blankets. That's mainly what I asked for when I sent out invitations to my baby shower- you can't have too many blankets and towels when you have a newborn. Babies spit up, diapers leak, babies get cold, you need blankets by the rocking chair, for the crib, for the bassinet, for the car seat. And never mind the fact that blankets get stepped on, dragged across the ground, forgotten in the car, and stolen by the dog.

I keep a stack of clean blankets in the baby's closet. These are the newer blankets that I use to cover the changing table. On the closet shelf are the old blankets that used to belong to me. The other day I needed a blanket because the house is slightly cooler with Mabon fast approaching. The new blankets didn't really appeal to me. The crocheted blankets seemed to heavy. I glanced up at the shelf. Something was different. There was a blue blanket on top. I could have sworn a pink blanket had been at the top of the stack.

The blue blanket seemed perfect. Flannel, but not bulky. I wrapped my little daughter up and she went right to sleep.

At 4am I sat in the rocking chair feeding her with the blanket draped over my thigh. Gradually, I became aware of how warm the blanket was. Like a little heater. Not too hot, just comfortably warm.

I looked at it carefully. Definitely Granny's work. Store-bought flannel neatly edged with hand stitches. And probably all kinds of spells whispered lovingly with each stitch.

I'll have an upcoming post about Stitch Witches so stay tuned.