Tuesday, February 12, 2013
My sewing machine
But this machine is far more than features to me. It was Yolanda's machine. Her dream machine, too. She asked her family to give it to me as a gift, as a memory of our friendship when she passed. The weight of that is big to me. Out of every other person in the world, she chose me to give this to. What can I do but feel the honor and love when I sit down to sew? My sweet friend, who was so much fun even to visit in the hospital... I'd rather be sewing on my roller skate Kenmore to have her back, but she is gone. Her memory is very alive with me, though. I put scraps of her fabric in every project I make these days. I treasure the conversations she and I had. There seems to be more aqua and yellow in my world than there used to be. I check in with her fiancé every few weeks - he's doing really well, as much as he misses her. (What a gem she had in him.)
Even writing this, my heart aches. It's funny how much a little machine can carry love and history, creativity and sadness and joy, all wrapped up in a bunch of parts.