My mother loved beautiful fabrics. She loved colors, and textures, and imagining what she could make with a new-found treasure. We are still uncovering reams and bags and rolls in every closet and corner in the house. One car load to a quilt maker for the Linus Project. Another to an Arab Women’s Sewing Circle support group for those recovering from violent situations in their lives. Another car load nearly packed to go and support local hospice care…another to a quilting group in SF who support those in need…another to a group sewing clothes for the homeless.
I’m feeling some tears as I load the car, all the bags from decades past with notes about what or who the project was for, some partly finished, some only ideas yet to be started. Memories of all the times in a fabric store with my mother, picking out patterns and fabric, seeing what was on sale or in the remnant bin, all the handmade gifts from my grandmother for each birthday and on holidays. As we got older there were bean bag chairs, outdoor gear for our adventures, curtains for a first home off-campus. I don’t sew like my mother and grandmother did, and I did not realize at the time that it was a special thing they were doing, sharing with us.
Now, I am so grateful for those who are continuing the art of creating function and beauty with their hands and hearts, and that they can use all of my mother’s unfinished colors, threads, and textures, to make something of comfort for someone else. I am thankful for the gifts from my mother, and my grandmother before her, and so happy to pass them on, for the threads that connect us all to continue their ripple out beyond this house, beyond my own memories, into the lives of those I may never meet…creating some warmth, some joy, some good memories to rise softly in the heart years from now, and feeling the smiles of our ancestors as we continue to circle back to what really matters…
All Content Copyright © 2012/2013 Photos/Words by Amy Allis