The screened back door of an abandoned home in rural South Carolina broke my heart. I walked on pine needles silently to get close to the house and photograph. I looked through windows. Then I turned the corner to the back of the house and saw the door. It opened to the kitchen. It was the heart of the home. I could imagine Gramma calling kids to supper. I could hear it swing shut and slam as kids ran through. My textile recreation of what I saw is a way to give voice to life that was there.