1 February 2009
Mom's sewing projects were disasters
of monumental proportions, but her wrecks
were always confined to the sewing machine cover,
strings of all hues, lengths and thicknesses
peeking out from among countless castoff swatches
of every imaginable color, shape and size.
The outcome of every venture was a masterpiece--
from Raggedy Anne to wedding dresses
that outlasted their respective marriages.
She had a gift, and she gave it to me.
I pull it out seldom, and with much effort
in the way of enthusiasm. I never nurtured the skill,
and I lack the talent of my forebears.
Just enough of my mother's grace exists
in my fingers to bless my own girl with a moment
like the moments of my childhood, to recreate
the beautiful disaster in some small way,
make the little girl I was a part of her.