Saturday, September 12, 2015

Summer Dresses

My mom.
Hoarder of fabrics.
Collector of
and pins
and bobbins
and quilt magazines
all in hopes
of future beautiful things.

With the sidewalk as my runway
I was a school-girl model
for her hand-sewn creations.
And honestly
secretly envious
of the girls with store-bought clothes.

Simplicity was a common a word in our home.
Pattern packets were old friends
my mom pulled from the cabinet
and used 
over and over again.

Ordinary things
for sewing hands
cluttered the counters
and covered 
the dining room table.

Except at Thanksgiving
when the table was cleared
of the sewing hardware
and threads
and zippers
and replaced
fine china
five fat roasted
Cornish Hens.

Because my step-dad
didn't like turkey.


And the table
turns back into
Sewing Central.

All these years later
after closet cleaning
drawer emptying
and box sorting
some of
the rolled scraps
and leftovers
with me.

An artist of another sort.

I'm finding peace
and lots of smiles
in the woven memories
as I bring them to new life
on my canvases.

Although I should probably call this one
Camp Shirt-Summer Dress-Fifth Grade Nightgown
in commemoration
of all the life passages
and moments
I see in these
patches of fabric-store memories
I probably will just
call it

Torn Summer Bouquet

and smile
because no one really really knows
but me.

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