"Whirr, whirr, hum, hum…"
Often I was greeted by those sounds when I dashed into the house
after school, dropping books and belongings with a thud as I
raced to the kitchen for a snack.
From Mom’s sewing room she would announce herself with a
strained mumble, "I’m in here sewing." More often than not, she
spoke with straight pins pinched between her lips.
Mother was a homemaker in every sense of the
word. I never once heard her complain of the never-ending work
involved in raising three children. Washing and ironing mounds
of clothing, cleaning, and cooking every meal from scratch—all
were chores she took in stride with a joyful attitude! Yet, she
somehow found time to tend her flowers, enjoy coffee klatches
with girlfriends, as well as sewing, knitting, and crocheting.
Sewing, however, was her first love and every
garment was made to perfection. For many years she wrestled with
a portable machine perched atop an old card table. Finally, Dad
insisted she splurge on a new one. It had every option available
and the cabinet was solid maple with a finish like fine satin.
She was as proud as a peacock, although she struggled in coming
to terms with the money they spent!
The machine paid for itself many times over.
Nearly every item of clothing I wore during my high school years
was created on that machine, and the majority of Mom’s clothing
as well.
Mom did treat me when it came to prom
dresses, and we’d spend a day trudging from store to store until
I stumbled across the perfect gown. Then again, maybe she was
treating herself; teenage girls can be most contrary when it
comes to that all-important prom dress. Nevertheless, her loving
hands made all other party dresses and numerous bridesmaid
dresses.
After Mother’s funeral, my husband and I
stayed on several days to help Dad tend to various details. The
day prior to us leaving Dad announced, "I want you to take
Mother’s sewing machine home with you." I was stunned he wanted
to part with anything so quickly, but he was steadfast.
When thinking of a legacy, jewelry comes to
mind for most women; a special piece passed down from Mother to
daughter. However, any important or cherished belonging is a
legacy. Mother never really spoke of me having her machine but
it was always plainly understood. I know in her mind it was more
valuable than any item she owned. It was her
legacy because sewing was her one true love and talent. And
regardless of her project, be it clothing, drapes, or
pillows—one thing was certain, each perfect stitch was laid down
with love.
©2007 Kathleene S. Baker
Lnstrlady@aol.com
YELLOW ROSE
www.txyellowrose.com
