One of the things about getting older that causes me sadness (Yes, a bit of a Debbie downer post, but read on) is something rather selfish: my mum is no longer sewing for me. Since I was a baby, my mum has made clothing for me. She didnt make everything, but anyone who knows her can attest, every time I asked her to make something she did. Every one of my special/formal events, except for my marriage (the joys of elopement) my mum has created something for me. The last time this occurred was in 2008, when she made the dress I wore to my in-laws 50th wedding anniversary party. It didnt matter how the garment turned out. A few times things went without a glitch, but the vast majority of the time I made custom requests that gave my mum a hurdle/kink to overcome. She admits she has a daughter who does not have a tendency to stay within the lines, to the point of appearing as a classic contrarian, but she loved trying to make what I envisioned. In spite of all I threw at her, I was never disappointed by what she made. In fact, I was proud of what I wore every single time. I admired the fact that she never gave up on my ideas, and proud of the fact that my mama made it for me. My Mama Made My Dress/Shirt/Pants/Skirt. Shes 80 now and making such requests of her have ended, but I will never, ever forget what she did for me in this very special and intimate way. I wish she could still do such things, and that is what is sad. I miss my mums hand in helping me feel some happiness; how special she made me feel at those times.
Posted on: Sun, 09 Nov 2014 20:55:17 +0000
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