Cassidhe Hart

Scraps to Bunting

The fabric scraps had lived under my bed for years—I couldn’t tell you where most of them had come from, though the patterns were as familiar to me as a favorite outfit. Some were remnants of costume making, but most were too tiny for human-sized projects. So they served smaller purposes: a simple skirt or a quilted pillow for my dolls, a bedspread or a curtain for my dollhouse, a pouch for pretend play. I had visions of using one particular scrap to make a dress for my favorite teddy bear, but my sewing skills were never quite advanced enough to attempt it. Any time I needed a piece of fabric, I would bring them all out and lay them on my bed, running my hands over the well-known colors.