Hey, everyone. I’ve been hesitant about sharing this, but it feels right today.
I recently found something that has been consuming my thoughts and emotions in the best possible way. Last week, I was cleaning out the attic—something I had put off for years. It’s a place full of dust, forgotten boxes, and memories my family had packed away hastily when Mom passed a few years back. I finally mustered the courage to face all of it.
Amidst the cobwebs and boxes, I found a quilt. It was buried under piles of old clothes, in a battered cardboard box that nearly collapsed when I pulled it out. Curiously, I unfolded it. At first glance, it seemed like any other quilt — a patchwork of colors and patterns my grandmother used to make. But something about it felt different, like a whisper I was meant to hear.
As I spread it out on the old wooden floor, I noticed an odd patch sewn into one of the corners. It was a bright patch of sapphire blue with an embroidered hummingbird. For some reason, that hummingbird stirred something deep inside me. I sat with it, tracing its delicate stitches, and memories began to surface.
I remember Mom talking about how she loved hummingbirds when I was a child. They were her symbol of resilience and grace. When I was little, she told me that if ever I felt lost, I should look for a hummingbird, and it would guide me home. I’d forgotten about that until now.
I think that’s when I realized this quilt held more than just warmth. It was a message—a piece of my mother reaching out to me from beyond. I couldn’t help but clutch it to my chest and sob, not from sadness, but from a profound sense of connection and clarity. It was as if the quilt bridged the gap between us, and suddenly, I was not alone.
Later that day, I sat down with my dad and showed him the quilt. I watched his expression shift from curiosity to soft recognition. He sighed heavily, then finally spoke, “Your mother made this for you when you were born, but she never got the chance to finish it.”
His words washed over me like a tide rediscovering the shore. I had no idea. “Why was it hidden away?” I asked.
“She wanted to give it to you when you graduated high school, but when she got sick, she didn’t want you to only remember her illness. She kept it hidden to protect you, I guess,” he explained, struggling to keep his voice steady.
It was then that I realized that sometimes love is not just in grand gestures, but in the quiet protection of the heart. My mother, in her infinite love and wisdom, had left me a gift—a reminder of the beauty and strength she saw in me.
Holding that quilt, I felt as if her spirit was still guiding me. It was a quiet realization, but profound. I understood that it was okay to let go of the pain of her passing, to embrace the love she had showered upon me silently, through every stitch she sewed into that quilt.
So here I am, sharing this with you, because I want you to know that sometimes we find our strengths and truths in the most unexpected places. A forgotten box in an attic, a quilt from a loved one, or a memory of a hummingbird. Cherish those small things—they might hold the deepest truths of your heart.
Thank you for reading. May you find your hummingbird, too.
