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Mom Always Sewed
Publish On 2008-06-19 , 8:57 PM
Mom always sewed. At least this is my memory. It’s probably truer to say that Mom sewed because she had to, early on for economy and later because I was so skinny that for several years nothing off the rack fit me. It’s probably also true that she did it in a late-night rush in the zero spare time she had after working full time and taking care of house and family. I’ve forgotten nearly every garment I grew up with that wasn’t preserved in a photograph, except ones my mother sewed for me. I can still see them, feel them, remember the way they fit so perfectly. She made them with her own hands and always added something unique—a clever pocket or trim or some other special detail. I loved flipping through the pattern books and helping her choose a design. I loved roaming through the fabric store, eyeing the hundreds of bolts lined up like corn rows in a never ending farm of sewing possibilities. Her eyes watered from the sizing and my mind swam with creativity. You could make anything. Mom underestimated her talents. There were some restrictions in her choice of materials--nothing stretchy, plaid, striped, slippery, dry clean only…how about a nice woven cotton? Perfect. And it always was. Okay, Momma, I forgive you for not letting me go to the Elton John concert in 1974. You taught me to sew and to love it.
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