My grandmother was the definition of class. She was a lady when appropriate, sophisticated, and beyond her time in more ways than one.

She passed last October after living for more than a decade with Alzheimer’s.

Sunday, I brought her sewing machine home with me. When I picked it up, it still had a wound bobbin in it. Pink thread. I touched it lightly and wondered what she had sewn with it.

I love having her sewing machine because it is a piece of her. Sewing was something she enjoyed immensely, something she looked forward to, something that was all her own. She sewed my mother’s wedding dress–the same dress I wore more than two decades later at my wedding (though, admittedly, a bit altered).

Last night I started to organize her sewing box and teared up a little touching all the different colored threads.  So many blues and greens.

To have my grandmother’s sewing machine is very special to me. I’ll be reminded of her every time I use it and a little piece of her will always be with me. I think that’s pretty special.

One Comment on “Class”

  1. […] fabric from grandma W.  Readers may remember I recently became the proud owner of a very special sewing machine.  I don’t know much about sewing so I’m starting with the basics. My first […]

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