nana's workroom

I lowered the foot, held on to the fabric, and gently gave the machine power.  Not much, but enough that the mess of blue in my hands crept forward with the pull of the needle.  I pulled out pins, and fed the machine more.  I was sewing.  My fear of the dreaded Singer abated with each side of the pillow case  I was gingerly creating.  One form down, my confidence grew.

The machine pulsed on and I was carried to my Nana's sewing room.  I could hear the fluorescent lamp humming above me and the high-pitched ssnip of her shears on a disobliging end.  I could see the endless amounts of string on the red carpet, so vast that no vacuum would ever be able to defeat.  I could see her focused, making me a ballerina costume out of bright pink tulle, her tall body hunched over her work table.  The machine snaps back to life while I fiddle with the endless assortment of thread in the cupboard.  Wooden bobbins wrapped tight with beautiful colors.  We don't speak much, but I never leave that room.  As she works on, I climb up on Papa's hearty, orange upholstered ottoman, and watch my grandmother's spindly fingers work their magic.  Fingers much like my own...

I snip a few strings from the last pillow form and admire the results.  Five new pillows in one afternoon, an absolute record for me!  I knew Nana was proud.  Not of the sheer volume of work I had done, but for  conquering a fear and taking on a hobby she held so dear.  I knew it.  It was like she was with me, reminding me to raise the foot or to follow a line.  

I finally understand  my quiet grandmother more.  How she struggled to converse but would make you any afghan of your choosing.  How stitching together pieces could tell a story.  I finally understood how all of the hours I spent with her in her workroom were not as silent as I remembered.  We might not have conversed at length or shared anecdotes.  But I remember the noises and colors of that room.  And all I have to do is turn my Singer back on and she is ready to teach me again.   Her legacy lives on in the work she showed me how to cherish.  I finally see how much of her is in me and I don't ever want that to go away.