Slow stitching on on mini quilt made of two vintage handkerchief gave me some time to think this week. The old cotton was like gauze, really, and so fragile I needed to be mindful of where my needle tip was at all times, and how much I could safely tug on the embroidery thread.
Mostly I thought about my mom, who always carried handkerchiefs in her purse. As a kid I thought of that as one of the ladylike things a woman was expected to do. I never did the same. Like being regarded as a lady, the thought of carrying around a wad of snotty cloth in my bag never appealed much to me. I wanted a Swiss Army knife like the one my dad always carried in his front pocket. I bought myself one with my first paycheck after I left home, and still carry one in my purse.
I was never the daughter my mother wanted, I've always known that. I could never be a religious woman or the mother of a large family; that was her life. What she believed to be the right life for a woman was like her handkerchief. How I lived instead was my Swiss Army knife. And now as I stitch on old hankies and think of her, I simply hope she's at peace. I am.
1 comment:
I loved my mother, but we butted heads a lot. She came from a family with four brothers and had to fight for everything. I was an only child and while I was certainly not spoiled in any way whatsoever due to a severe lack of money and my mother's inability to really connect with me, the 'motherly love' that most, not all, mothers have for their children just wasn't there. I know why, too long a story, but I loved her right up to the minute she died and I still do. Miss her terribly too. And I too hope she's found her peace. She didn't seem to have a lot in life.
I can't decide if I like the front or the back of that hankie better! They're both pretty stunning.
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