Nothing Like Getting Lost . . .
. . . in my own home. More specific, in my basement. I went down to shop for an item from our pantry in the basement. It’s just the handiest to have extra supplies on hand rather than having to make a trip to the grocery store for an item or two. The pantry used to be the cistern that held a supply of water from a well that was on the property. Dennis and his cousin, Bruce, via a jack hammer, created this nook than has become our pantry that could very well feed an entire family if need be.
With the pantry item in hand I stopped to put a few sewing items away that were laying on the table. Our 4-H gal’s project that we had been working on for the last month was finished and the tidying up had not as yet happened. I will add that last night at the 4-H style review her project took several well-deserved ribbons and awards as well as Reserved Grand Champion. Minnesota State Fair here she comes. Smiles all around.
As I put the sewing items away I noticed a thick folder that held some of my Mom’s quilt patterns. I pulled it off of the shelf and sat down at my sewing table. Here were her hand drawn patterns along with the fabric samples. I looked. I touched. I wiped a tear. My Mom. My hero. So much of my adult life’s skills are from her tutelage. The entire time a sewing project was under way with Mom, came the lessons of managing to have more than one iron in the fire, whether it was keeping tabs on something in the oven or dashing out to the clothes line when a rain shower popped up. There was never a sewing challenge that left Mom stumped. Patterns were cut out of sheets of the Hutchinson Leader newspaper if an alteration was needed. Her fingers that had become thick with arthritis could wheel those little stickpins just as if they were an extension of her own fingers. Priceless. Reluctantly I put the folder back in good order. I liked the feeling of calm I had from that folder and it just seemed the natural thing to wander further into my stashes of patterns and fabrics. Remembering the quilts that had left a few odds and ends of fabrics from each of the projects. The end result: I need to work up a scrappy happy quilt to use up the wonderful colorful bits of fabric that were left from the larger projects. Mom would agree.
It was a good thing Dennis was on the ball and decided to start the grill as supper time was right around the corner. I had spent the entire afternoon lost in my wonderful world of scraps, threads and more memories than I had expected. After I had come up from the basement to put the finishing touches on the supper table, I very well had to go back down to the basement for that pantry item that started all of this. All of this? It brought about the peace that passes all understanding.
In life, please remember to give and have no memory of it, or take and remember it always.