Recently she ventured into sewing again, making some PJ's with a borrowed machine. It was frustrating as her old machine was so much easier to operate. At Thanksgiving my sister hauled the old Singer in the back of her truck from Utah to our 90 year old Mom. It needed a little work so I dropped it off at my local Singer repairman to get it rewired and cleaned up. It took weeks, but they did a great job, carefully cleaning the rust from the motor, replacing the wiring, etc.
Yesterday I hauled it back up to Mom's and we set it back in the cabinet (it weighs a ton!), which she had refinished in a pretty turquoise chalk paint. I plugged it in, wound a bobbin, threaded it and stitched a few lines on a scrap of cloth. I had forgotten the sweet hum of this machine that I first learned to sew on when I was 10. Though the smooth rhythm of needle going up and down reminded me that it once went clean through my index finger (it sews through anything!), we were still old friends.
I remembered a suit I made in high school, back when a field trip to San Francisco required heels and gloves. I remembered my first apron in 4-H and the frustration of learning to gather a skirt without breaking the threads. I remembered my graduation dress from high school with its little embroidered daisy trim. All that from just listening to the hum of Mom's old Singer.
She told me that I could have it after she was done sewing. At the rate she's going, it will be quite a while before it comes to Fair Oaks. Meanwhile, she is as happy as if she just bought a new Bernina and had 5 yards of Duponi silk to sew.
Laurel. Sewing goes on forever!