I've been thinking about you a lot these days. I mean, I think about you every day. Some days more than others, and sometimes so very very much.

I'm sewing! I'm a sewing machine (ha). We never shared this hobby, but I totally get it now.

I loved that you loved to sew. I loved how lost you got in it, the music, the whistling. I remember your mug of ginger ale you kept on the corner of the sewing table.  It burned my nose, those bubbles.
Sewing makes me feel close to you. Some days it hurts. Mostly it comforts.

I'm making a red riding hood cape! I have the outer part finished. I ironed it. The seams are raw and it needs a lining. I put it on a hanger and memories flooded back.

I remember seeing partially finished clothes on hangers...darts and seams and lines and pins...and I wanted to wear them so bad! But they weren't finished. We didn't care. We loved them and wanted them now. 

The dresses you made us. The quilts. We loved them so much. Did you know that? I'm sure you did. I didn't realize how much love you poured into each project. Did you get giddy when a new pattern worked for you?

I remember many naps under unfinished quilts. Just the quilt top was finished. You'd bring it out to show us and we'd beg you to let us have it.

"But I have to finish it!"

I get it now, Mom.

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