I miss my mom. My heart aches so much to see her again. My heart hurts when she simply stares at me with a blank face. My impatience with anything and everything completely disappears when she taps her fingers, claps her hands, or shuffles incredibly slow. My heart will always be with my mom.
Simple everyday items can sometimes break my heart or reduce me to tears, such as rummaging around in my mom’s sewing box. I had no idea my parents were borderline hoarders. My dad kept books and stuffed animals, and my mom held on to buttons and thread from way way back.
Looking at button packages and other things my mom used makes me smile. I love finding items from my mom’s past. While rummaging through her sewing box and thread box, I found a stash of buttons, bias tape, zippers, and other little sewing items I couldn’t identify.
Just rummaging through my mom’s sewing boxes made me feel closer to her. I have many fond memories of her sitting at her sewing machine, picking out fabric before the beginning of the school year, or looking at sewing patterns. What limited knowledge I have about sewing, I owe to her.
I took the requisite home ec classes in high school, but when I had to pick between home ec or shop, I always chose shop. I wanted to work with wood and big sharp machines instead of baking cookies or sewing scrunchies. So, really, what I know about sewing I learned from my mom.