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A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
97
This
thought
came
over
me
with
a
sudden
dread
one
Sabbath
morning
when
I
was
a
toddling
thing,
led
along
by
my
sister,
behind
my
father
and
mother.
As
they
walked
arm
in
arm
before
me,
I
lifted
my
eyes
from
my
father's
heels
to
his
head,
and
mused:
"How
tall
he
is!
and
how
long
his
coat
looks!
and
how
many
thousand,
thousand
stitches
there
must
be
in
his
coat
and
pantaloons!
And
I
suppose
I
have
got
to
grow
up
and
have
a
husband,
and
put
all
those
little
stitches
into
his
coats
and
pantaloons.
Oh,
I
never,
never
can
do
it!"
A
shiver
of
utter
discouragement
went
through
me.
With
that
task
before
me,
it
hardly
seemed
to
me
as
if
life
were
worth
living.
I
went
on
to
meeting,
and
I
suppose
I
forgot
my
trouble
in
a
hymn,
but
for
the
moment
it
was
real.
It
was
not
the
only
time
in
my
life
that
I
have
tired
myself
out
with
crossing
bridges
to
which
I
never
came.
Another
trial
confronted
me
in
the
shape
of
an
ideal
but
impossible
patchwork
quilt.
We
learned
to
sew
patchwork
at
school,
while
we
were
learning
the
alphabet;
and
almost
every
girl,
large
or
small,
had
a
bed-quilt
of
her
own
begun,
with
an
eye
to
future
house
furnishing.
I
was
not
over
fond
of
sewing,
but
I
thought
it
best
to
begin
mine
early.
So
I
collected
a
few
squares
of
calico,
and
undertook
to
put
them
together
in
my
usual
independent
way,
without
asking
direction.
I
liked
assorting
those
little
figured
bits
of
cotton
cloth,
for
they
were
scraps
of
gowns
I
had
seen
worn,
and
they
reminded
me
of
the
persons
who
wore
them.
One
fragment,
in
particular,
was
like
a
picture
to
me.
It
was
a
delicate
pink
and
brown
sea-moss
pattern,
on
a
white
ground,
a
piece
of
a
dress
belonging
to
my
married
sister,
who
was
to
me
bride
and
angel
in
One.
I
always
saw
her
face
before
me
when
I
unfolded
this
scrap,--a
face
with
an
expression
truly
heavenly
in
its
loveliness.
Heaven
claimed
her
before
my
childhood
was
ended.
Her
beautiful
form
was
laid
to
rest
in
mid-ocean,
too
deep
to
be
pillowed
among
the
soft
sea-mosses.
But
she
lived
long
enough
to
make
a
heaven
of
my
childhood
whenever
she
came
home.
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