A couple of weeks ago I got out Mama’s sewing scissors. I have looked at them a few times since her death, but haven’t used them.
She was very particular with her sewing scissors. She kept them in the box they came in and they were only used for fabric. Mama was the type of person who always “made do” with things, not necessarily buying the best things for herself, although she would get quality for me. When she did splurge on something for herself she took exquisite care of it.
I brought the scissors down and have used them a couple of times in a sewing project I’ve got going, but I’m being very careful with them. It feels good to be using them.
The love she put into sewing projects was palpable. She sewed for me. She sewed for my nephews when we were younger. She sewed for almost everyone in the family at one time or another – maybe some simple mending, or maybe chair cushions when she reupholstered furniture, or maybe a dress. Whatever she made, she used these scissors, then stored them carefully away in their box.
It feels good to have my hands around something Mama wrapped her hands around so many times. And I think her magic touch is with me because the project I’m working on is going more smoothly than I expected.
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