{the sewing machine}

 You know when you're young and you think your mom has the best ____ ever? I felt that way about my moms sewing machine. I very vaguely remember her getting this exact machine. With 5 girls plus herself to clothe she spent hours at a sewing machine, much to her dismay. Looking back I can't fathom how she did it except I know that most of her sewing happened after us kids were in bed. 

 If she sewed during the day she'd often let me set up her old machine and 'sew' by hand turning the wheel thing ( for lack of a better word). I created many a fancy purse, pillowcase, and barbie dresses by the handful. 

 The older I got the more she let me use her machine. One day while trying extra hard to create likely another barbie dress, I sewed my thumb. The needle went right through. I'm guessing I was a little gun shy for awhile after that. 

 When I was about 13 mom paid for a seamstress to teach my little sis and I the real tricks of the trade. We learned how to properly sew in a zipper, do a buttonhole and all the must-knows for sewing. 

 I of course was using the coveted Kenmore. I loved the different colors the display showed of different stitches and I loved turning the knob to select the different stitches. 

 Later on when I was about 15, with money from my Grandma and our Alberta Premier, mom helped me buy my own machine. Much to my dismay, she would not let me 'buy' hers. It was all I wanted. 

 Instead I got a Bernina. I was supposed to be the best but it didn't feel right. I used that machine until I just before I married and sold it. 

 Once I had made the move to California I tried a new friends Babylock machine and I fell in love. I hadn't sewed on a machine that felt so much like my mums. So I went and bought one. 

 1.5 years ago at Christmas, the last Christmas we spent with mum, she gave me the Kenmore sewing machine. My babylock was having some issues a few months after my mum went to heaven and i gingerly pulled out the Kenmore, needing to mend or sew something. It felt like a gift. A gift from the past. Opening up the the little storage container, my tears flowed. The seam ripper, all the bobbins loaded with different colour of thread. I held all the pieces as if they were gold. Pieces of gold that I knew her fingers and hands were the last to touch. Pieces of gold that she had used to create baby quilts for her grand kids and whatever project had caught her fancy. 

 The sewing machine is put away in the closet right now, I haven't used it in awhile, but I see it every time I open that door and while I feel so lucky to be the one to get to keep it it hurts my heart also to see it sitting there. 

 There is so much to grief that most people do not see... Would you have thought that getting a sewing machine out of the closet would cause me to lay on the floor and weep? It happened. 

PS. I wrote this July 1, 2020 and never hit publish. Today I am hitting publish.