Harriet's Quilt

	This story is a general work of fiction in 7 parts inspired by a reading of Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Although the main characters are fictitious much of this story is based on actual historical figures and events. Reader’s discretion is suggested.
	HARRIET'S QUILT - Epilogue

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T

he burnished evening sun had crept its way into the kitchen. Streaming its way into Harriet’s kitchen, the light washed everything it laid on in a gold and amber glow. Harriet had begun on the trim of the quilt. Artfully and deftly, she lifted a hemmed ribbon of deep brown and begins setting it around the quilt. She surrounded the quilt and the winding tale it carried within a border of deep brown tone, setting it firmly in with strong stitches.

It was a long process of stitching and threading that went on through the evening. We sat in the quiet company of each other in the kitchen while the sun slowly crept off into the horizon and left with us in a glimmering twilight. Harriet had exhausted her words weaving her story of the quilt, of Jim and herself. It was in the quiescence of the dusk that she completed the work of trimming the quilt.

She looked at me an’ smiled as she bit off the final thread that locked the stitches in and laid it on the table. I couldn’t help but grab the quilt with her hands and held it up to admire. The tapestry of a tale embroidered within the patches of colored fabric, of flowing blue rivers, railroad tracks, green plantations and woods and swirls of red was breathtaking.

In the midst of admiration, I caught a glimpse of Harriet’s hands next to mine. In the half-light of the kitchen I could only see the outline and form of our hands but couldn’t tell any difference between them that held the quilt up. It was only that hers felt more calloused than mine – wrought and roughened by a history of experiences.