My mother died almost a year ago now. One of the things she enjoyed doing was refinishing wood furniture--the concept of repurposing, recycling and making do a residual inheritance of the combined efforts of her Scots ancestry and the Great Depression working together to create what was, for her, a natural art form; she was very good at it. I was not. I grew up intimidated by hand crafts, much as I envied the abilities of those--like my mother--who had such skill and patience. I was a musician and a book nerd, quiet and reclusive, with no interest in challenging my perceived inability to do anything with my hands beyond putting them to a piano keyboard. Today, however, I refinished a small, round maple table my mother gave me years ago; it was covered with 20 years worth of life with children--scratches, dings, paint splotches, scribbles and the like. I cleaned and sanded it and added a new coat of stain-- thankfully, and intentionally, some of the child-wear is still imprinted in the wood. I did it all by myself with support from my wonderful husband Ben who went to the hardware store to purchase the needed supplies. It looks beautiful and will once again be put to use in our home. Im proud of the work. Im proud of my mother and yes, I miss her. :)
Posted on: Sat, 12 Apr 2014 21:31:41 +0000
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