In the summer of 2007, my parents, brother and I went to visit family members in Bangladesh for the first time in a decade. For my parents, this trip was a long-awaited reunion. For me, it was a chance to finally visit the place my parents never stopped talking about. Of course, I was only seven years old, so I don’t remember the entire trip all too well. However, despite the fading memories, one tangible thing that remains from that trip is this quilt.

We keep the quilts (one was made for my brother, the other for me) stored safely away in a closet. I asked my dad about the origin of the quilts since I only vaguely remember when we received them. He told me that the quilts were handwoven, mostly by my grandmother, along with the help of some other village neighbors. Since my brother and I grew up an ocean away, out of her sight and touch, my grandma wanted to give us something that was not expensive or luxurious but, more importantly, something to remember her by. 

Today, it’s been almost three years since my grandma passed away and I treasure this quilt more than ever. This quilt represents my connection to Bangladesh. When my parents and brother immigrated to America, they flew here with a hole in their hearts. Even now, it would be a lie to say a hole doesn’t remain. However, when we see this quilt, we are transported back to Bangladesh. Even if the trip is just a 5 second day dream, we cherish it.

– Asma Sadia

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant