Lia Huntington

Scissors and a Ruler

My mother’s hands, with just a pair of scissors and wooden ruler, cut squares of pink, blue, yellow, green, some from the scraps of my childhood—from the sundresses and jumpers she’d made me. Three-inch squares of florals and solids, stripes and ginghams in hundreds of colors. She never told me. She just cut and sewed half square triangles for years, a bit at a time.