The Cat’s in the Cradle

I walk past my oldest antique, a cradle that my grandmother, Edna Cartwright Davis, born IMG_20160523_105247902in the late 1800s, slept in as an infant. When she grew out of it, someone carried it upstairs into an attic where it remained for decades. I never knew about the cradle until my grandmother brought it downstairs one year in the early 60s and asked if I would like to have it. I was in my early twenties then,married and mother of two sons, and pretty sure I wouldn’t have more children. But that didn’t matter because this was a family heirloom and I was thrilled to say, “Yes, I’d love to have that cradle,” to my grandmother. She wasn’t often physically affectionate, but that day I reached out and gave her a big long hug of gratitude and love.

Life changed unexpectedly after that and I became a single mom for several years. When I re-married, Polly arrived four years later and two years later, Susan. To prepare the cradle for Polly, I purchased 3” soft piece of foam and crafted a mattress, then made sheets to fit from fabric with a small pastel-colored kitten pattern. Both girls slept contentedly in the cradle and grew out of it more quickly than I would have chosen.

Following the baby years, the cradle slowly filled with baby memorabilia: a triangle patchwork baby quilt crafted by my mother’s friend, Geneva; a crocheted pale green-and-yellow afghan my mother made; a lacy baby pillow made by a Bovina friend. When the girls began to outgrow their dolls, dolls began to spend their days in the cradle, so many beautiful dolls. The lovely yellow-haired doll with a baby blue handmade dress made by a talented Bovinian, Lisa, found her way there. The Raggedy Ann dolls I made, each with a heart embroidered with, “I love you,” secreted beneath their dresses and aprons were tucked close by, the small Raggedy Ann nestled on the larger one’s lap. Then, life-sized baby doll, Bonnie, was tenderly placed in the cradle, still dressed today in the pink-checked bunny bunting with little white ears I’d brought Polly, and then Susan, home from the hospital in. The bunting is still in perfect condition these near four-decades later.

Now, it’s the cat who naps in the cradle, comfy as can be atop the folded patchwork quilt. As I smile down at my sweet feline friend and his surrounding company, sweet memories fill my heart. Then I wonder: who will nap in the cradle in its future years?

 

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About Mary Jo Doig

Mary Jo Doig was the first in her family to attend college and graduated from the State University at Oneonta in New York’s Catskill Mountains with a degree in Secondary English Education/Educational Psychology. There she fell in love with rural life, remained, and eventually transitioned from city girl to country woman when she married a dairy farmer and raised their three children on their small family farm. A life-long lover of reading and writing, Mary Jo has for nearly twenty years been a member of the Story Circle Network. There she has been an editor, a women’s writing circle facilitator, a book reviewer, and life-writing enthusiast, working extensively with women writing their life-stories while writing her own memoir. Presently, she is a three-time Program Chair for SCNs national Stories from the Heart conference and a board member. She also facilitates Older Women’s Legacy workshops and a women’s life-writing circle in her area communities. Her stories have appeared in Kitchen Table Stories anthology, Story Circle Annual Anthologies, and most recently her story “I Can’t Breathe” was published in the Anthology, Inside and Out: Women’s Truths, Women’s Stories. Her work also appears in varied blogs and periodicals, on her blog Musings from a Patchwork Quilt Life (https://maryjod.wordpress.com), Facebook, and Twitter. Her son and two daughters grown, Mary Jo presently treasures her country life in Virginia’s Central Shenandoah Valley. She loves cooking (and eating!) healthy food, reading, writing, quilting, hiking, and spending quality time with her rescue cats, Button and Xena, and beagle, Addie, who each dream of being only children. Her first book, Patchwork: A Memoir of Love and Loss, will be published in October, 2018 by She Writes Press.
This entry was posted in Animal friends, Bovina Center, NY, Stories, Change, Childhood, Family, Friendship, Grace, Quilts. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to The Cat’s in the Cradle

  1. Lovely piece, Mary Jo. I love hearing this aspects of your life.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Lovely story. My children slept in a slimmer cradle that their father and his brother and their mother and her siblings and perhaps her mother slept in. My grandsons did not sleep in it. You know, “not up to code.” Nobody died.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Mary Jo Doig says:

      Ah, yes, code. I always stayed close, grateful for a little time to read or sew, because if they rolled over, the cradle would tip. No one could fall out; it just looked really uncomfortable. They, too, survived.

      Like

  3. gwynnrogers says:

    I loved your story as I have my grandmother’s rocking chair from when she was a small child. It is now 100+ years old and I have given it to my nearly three year old granddaughter so that she and her new baby brother can share it. Many fond memories! Thanks!

    Liked by 1 person

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