Those scraps have traveled with me many years before becoming stuffing. A piece of wool from my maternity clothes. A scrap of red plaid from my oldest daughter's Christmas jumper. Green polka dots from a skirt and vest of daughter #2. The floral print from the dress worn to the Nutcracker by my youngest. Fabric scraps from my grandchildren's Easter baskets. Even a scrap of fabric from a dress my mother had. Wool pieces from plaitied wool rugs. Bits of my first quilt made for my husband. Projects finished and unfinished. Fabric admired, purchased, sewn and saved. Bits and pieces that I knew I would someday find a use for and was too frugal to throw away.
So each of my dolls, although in a part that will probably never be seen, really is a part of me. It's not just that I've made all the parts of the dolls by hand. But tucked inside each one is a fabric history of my life. A colorful jumble of life's joys and changes. Tucked inside arms and legs and a canvas body of each Wistful Grandma Doll.