Monday, November 21, 2005

Harry Potter and the Magic Quilt

(This is the rug I made to go with the magic quilt.)

Against all reason, I took my five-year-old daughter to see the new Harry Potter movie this last weekend. It was George's idea. But I can't blame him entirely. We were in Indiana and didn't have a babysitter. I wanted to see it, too, and the house was cold. It was no surprise to me that the theater was filled with senseless, desperate adults (like us) towing their young’uns along, including infants, to what they knew would be a terrifying movie. We would never get away with that at the Esquire on Oak Street. Nor would the Esquire ever show a Harry Potter movie.

She was terrified and watched the movie with her head buried in my armpit – similar to how I viewed “The Blair Witch Project” several years earlier. Shame, shame, shame on me because I knew it would be scary. But she insisted on staying.

Later that night, in bed, tucked under her quilt, I retold the story of how baby Harry was saved from Voldemort by his mother’s love. It went something like, “Lord Voldemort was a bad wizard who wanted to kill Harry’s mom and dad. But when he zapped Harry’s mom..”

“What happens when they’re zapped?” She asked.

“Ah… Hmm… Well?” I stammered.

“I know. Do they turn into those blue light things?”

“Yes, that’s right (safe!). They turn into blue spirits.

So when Voldemort was about to zap Harry’s mother, she made the most powerful spell… that if anyone tried to zap Harry, he’d get zapped himself. That’s why Harry lived and Voldemort died, sort’of, because his mother protected him with a special love spell.”

Her mind was spinning with magic, spells and mothers. Before she fell asleep, I told her that when I made her quilt, I stitched some of my own momma-love-magic into all of those little hearts. Whenever she had a bad dream, she could touch her quilt and know she was protected by my spell. She examined the quilt, touched the thread.


Really, really.


  1. Really Really. I so love that. Still way jealous of your craftiness.

  2. Not only do you have a good eye in photography, but a good (eye? ear? sense?) for words. Spare, evocative, eloquent. Brought tears to my eyes, as well as the michael jordan entry.