This starts and ends with a Singer sewing machine.
Present Day, Last night and two weeks leading up to it.
My father has been helping me carry out my mothers long standing wishes of who gets what, and what to sell off out of her estate. Funny thing is, how does it become my mothers estate when my parents were married until the day she died. But beyond that, my father is destroying my coffee supply on a chilly Saturday morning, dropping off the last boxes from my mothers work room closet.. It was all the girls and sisters baby Easter dresses, that were worn once and put up. I had to drop them off at the consignment shop, since my mom made a promise with her friend the owner that the dresses would eventually return to her, since my mom had pictures of the girls in them. But she kept forgetting to deliver them, and then it fell on me to. But while I was making them nice, my dad told me the pastor called him, and invited him and my brother to sell some of my mom's left over windchimes made from recycled silver plated silverware. I stopped helping her with arts and crafts when work and my family devoured my free time, and I hope she understood. But my younger brother could not attend the churches show, because him and his wife were planning on slipping out of town with the kids after picking them up on the last day of school before winter break, and he needed to work overtime that night so that there would be no hard feelings to take an almost three week vacation from work.
So I was elected to go. Fun, no sarcasm. But the thing is, my mom did not leave any of her main works behind, and only taught my dad how to make the hanging bird feeders from silver plated dishes, lids and other things. My grandmother, who was there to try and steal my moms blue recipe book, which will be with me, then my oldest, and passed on to her oldest if or when she has kids and so on. My grandmother heard the conversation and brought back after leaving for a bit, a box of her crafts, which in my opinion are pretty neat. Unfortunately, the arts and crafts gene skipped me. But after agreeing to help I started to gather the wire, chain, beads and trays for Dad.
But after all the searching, I found my moms Singer. Given to her as a wedding gift, it survived me knocking it off the table and nearly taking me with it as a baby. My mom had the habit of sewing, cross stitching and reading with me in my car seat on the table, some mommy child bonding time. She used to tell me that she and I would talk, with me just babbling baby talk. The machine survived for years because my mom took care of it. I broke down with tears in my eyes seeing it.
I tell that part of the story first, and diverge the story to the past to bring why the machine is important and who got it and why.
It was Christmas Eve. My oldest was just starting middle school, my second oldest was beating boys up in the fourth grade, my Son was in third grade and my youngest daughter was in first grade, easier to say a few years ago. My mom had the girls over to teach them some light crafts, cooking and basically wanted to hear the sounds of little kids in her house again, as the only children to remain were my youngest brother and sister who were well on their way in their high school lives. My younger brother and sister already had their kids over, but there was only one girl in the group. My dad had whisked the boys away to go with uncles and family friends on a mistletoe hunt. Basically get the rowdy boys out of the house. My oldest daughter was at the sewing machine, helping sew up homemade stockings, since I asked my mom to make some like Nana did for us.
But...
The problem was, my mom had just gotten her hands on some rare (to her, and this town since no one carries it anymore.) fabric but instead of putting it up, she left it on the table and stacked all the fabric for the stockings on it. Well, you leave a busybody little girl with the tasks of measuring, marking, cutting and sewing up beautiful stockings, do not get mad when she does that. She worked through that entire pile. My mom held her anger, because it was her fault, but she forgave, but did not forget.
Now..
My oldest and her new fling came in to hang out and try to help my wife out, since classes have not ended yet,
"But don't worry Dad, Trey and I will be coming home the day before Christmas Eve."
Fuck Trey.
While she was here, I really wanted to give her, her gift from my mom. So with a wicked smile, I pulled out the Singer case, and dragged in a crate full of bolts of fabric. Second Youngest Daughter had already taken what she wanted out of it, and all, and I mean ALL of my moms patterns. Macall must have made a fortune off of my mom, and I don't even know who they are, other than pattern makers. When Oldest seen the case, she almost broke down. Inside the case, and taped to the machine was the stocking made from that material, and in it was a letter to my oldest, basically saying she was proud of the woman she became, and that she held no hard feelings over the fabric. My Oldest always thought her grandma was mad at her for it. I kept telling her that my mom never held grudges, as it was my moms mistake.
My oldest melted into a blubbering mess. I cried too, because while not with my kids did she hold grudges, ME however, she would make it clear that if she had to sew anywhere else in the house, that I was to be extra careful around her machine.
Back to last night...
I set the table up with my dad, contributing my own things I attempted to make, which would have been awesome if I had the crafting gene. And we sat for a couple of hours, sang some carols and enjoyed the time with friends, church members and customers alike.
It made me remember the good times with mom, when she did arts and crafts shows during the holidays, watching her triumphs and defeats, and seeing the strong woman who weathered both with poise, grace and dignity, and also a fair share of catty competitiveness.
The reason I tell this story is simple:
Through the years my mom would put me through things to make me learn and grow. At shows, she would take frequent bathroom breaks, which I thought was okay, but in reality, she left me to tend the booth. Learning to deal with customers, money, and other things and problems that arise. The first show I sat at, fortunately for me, not so alone, was my freshman year, and gf went with us, cause her mom and my mom were uber "besties" and sent her daughter to buy things, and hang out with me.
Man I was a nervous wreck. I froze up, almost gave wrong change, almost dropped stuff, it was sad and if watching from the outside, funny to see me as a meat brick DT/OT get flustered. But over time I got the hang of it, and soon I was sending my mom on breaks just to give her rest. Then I was doing shows for her, while she was at another. Her gift to me was a major confidence boost, and a skill set that helped me get to where I am.
But man, my mom loved Christmas and pranks.