SIsTER’S CHOICE
It seems we all have our own pandemic stories, myself included.
In 2019, I’d decided to make my “baby” sister a quilt for her Big Zero birthday which would be coming up in April of 2020. I chose something from Fat Quarter Shop called the Sister’s Choice pattern. It was a lovely straightforward, yet maybe, intermediate pattern with lots of half square triangles in each repeated block.
I chose neutral creamy beige and a white-on-white fabric. It would be somewhat monotone and I thought my sister might like its simplicity of color, and complexity of design.
I began sewing my half square triangles, and assembled my first block to see how well it would come together. I loved the block but it would take making about 15 or so more of them before I would find a comfortable rhythm.
I worked on them through spring and summer of 2019 but learned in late summer that my bestie, Camille’s, brain tumors had returned and that she’d need a second surgery in fall of that same year. She asked if I’d make the 600-mile trip to Tennessee where she now lives, to stay with her then teenage daughter. It was a no-brainer for me. She had had a previous brain surgery to remove her first set of tumors but she felt she couldn’t tell me about it until months later because at the same time, my mother had passed away and I was consumed with the arrangements, not to mention the grief. I had always felt a little lost that I hadn’t been included in that major event in Camille’s life, though I completely understood her choice and the dynamics. This made me all the more motivated to help while I could.
I continued to work on my sister’s quilt which became a sort of meditation practice. I’d think of my bestie, the trip I’d be making, my sister’s upcoming birthday, my husband, my upcoming wedding anniversary, and whether or not I’d have her quilt finished in time.
I lugged my sewing machine to Tennessee where I was able to finish several blocks as I waited each day to hear from my bestie who had to travel to Virginia for her surgery. I so wanted to bring her daughter up to see her but Camille didn’t want her to see her in the shape she was in. I settled for seeing her via FaceTime, knowing very little that that would be a prelude to the pandemic practice of Zoom calling that would come.
Camille made it through her surgery and radiation and now, in 2026, the tumors that remain in her brain still haven’t grown much. She would face other health complications but as she one day humorously put it, “well, it’s not brain surgery!” I can always count on her for a laugh.
I worked on my sister’s quilt into the new year which of course, in early spring, turned into a pandemic year. I wondered now, since we were quarantined, if her whole 50th birthday might be ruined. It made my heart ache with sadness for her, even though she’d tell you it was no big deal, just another birthday. I thought about how I’d present it to her while maintaining a distance of six feet. Because of mine and my husband’s own health conditions, and because it was still a Very Scary Virus, I didn’t want to compromise either one of us anymore than we already were.
I told my sister I had a big surprise for her and asked if I could I drive it down to her. I told her she could retrieve it from the porch while I stood back the six feet. I’d be able to watch her open it through her glass porch door. It’s crazy how very careful we felt we had to be. The pandemic caused so very many deaths and long-term illnesses and I am ever so grateful that my family and most of my friends would fare well.
She opened her quilt inside the glass door and was stunned. I’d made her a quilt before but this one seemed to be super special to her. I think part of her just loved the idea that I’d make the 45-minute drive just to do a safe distance exchange.
That quilt survived all my mistakes and rhythms, a trip to Tennessee, my bestie’s brain surgery, and the pandemic and now lays comfortably in her home where she can look back and remember a very special few moments in a very scary year.
Photo courtesy of Kristin Dowling