When I was young (before the bratty era), my grandma brought me to a local craft store (after much begging). I was wholly captivated by her moving needle and the precise separation of the floss, and I so badly wanted to join her. She let me pick out an embroidery pattern and floss, taught me how to iron it on, and walked through the process of making a little tea-towel piece of art. Of course, I could not, and still cannot, compare to her intricacy, but I learned as best I could.
In some weird way, I feel like it was her way to connect with me. I was the youngest grandchild, far removed from the traditions of the extended family, but we could meet at this crafty place (she also taught me to crochet). When she passed away this past fall, it was with heavy heart that I accepted her remaining stash, as I was the only grandchild that took up the 'craft' of crafting. On a lighter note, let me tell you, this woman knew how to collect a stash. When going through it all, I found the tea towel pictured above, only in quite a bit of disarray. Toward the end of her life, she had terrible eye sight, so bad that she could not really see the embroidery pattern. This precious little towel was just a mess of stitches every which way. She got so frustrated that she tucked it away before finishing it. It absolutely broke my heart to think of how lonely she must have been, not even able to do what she loves.
I meticulously took out the stitches (she would be embarrassed if I showed a before picture) and reused the floss (plus a little extra) to redo the pattern just as she had imagined it. So, here's to you, grandma - and yes ma'am, I will be sure that it gets used as a towel too, because that's what you would have liked.
thanks for reading :)
Mary (and Marie)
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