Conversations with My Departed Quilting Mother

I need to make a confession.  You see, I was the recipient of my late mother's  Bernina 1090 sewing machine and every time I sit down to sew........she starts talking to me.  Most of the time she is pretty quiet,  but quick to yell when I'm sewing over pins or winding the bobbin too fast (and not paying attention).   Lately we have had some interesting conversations.  Here is a sampling of what happened recently when I was going to make up some potholders for my own kitchen:

ME:  Okay, today I think I'll work on....

MOM:  With that thread?  The color isn't quite right.

ME:   I know, but I'm not in the mood to re-thread the machine and wind a bobbin and it's just a couple of stupid potholders that Joe will spill sauce on and it will be stained and besides shutup, I don't care.

MOM:   You know Joannie, you had that same attitude when you were trying to cover that cigar box with contact paper for your 4-H project when you were in 6th grade.

ME:   Jeez, Mom,  I can't believe you remember that.  I hated that project.

MOM:   It showed. The end result was you  got a white ribbon and I think they gave that to you out of sympathy.

ME:   Thanks for reminding me, Mom, that humiliating memory HAD vanished long ago.

MOM:     Aren't you going to measure that fabric?
ME:    No,  Mom,  it's a potholder.  It will be potholder-sized appropriate.  I like doing these things, no rules, no seam allowance

MOM: That is good, because you still have not mastered a consistent ¼ inch seam.

ME:   I know, I know.  How did you do it?

MOM:  I sewed about ten thousand of them.  That’s how you do it.

ME:   Well, thanks, anything else?
MOM:   You get too tense when you sew, your shoulders start hunching up and your neck gets stiff.  You have to relax, get in to the rhythm of it. You also have a lead foot, you need to slow down.  That machine has a button to keep you sewing at ½ speed you know, why don’t you use it?

ME:   Because I don’t have a lot of time to sew and I feel like I want to get a lot done.

MOM:   That’s good.  Get a lot done.  It will look like crap, but you’ll get a lot done. Would it kill you to put on some lipstick?
ME:   Mom, I’m home, no one sees me all day.

MOM:  So what’s your excuse on work days?  I never see you with lipstick. I never would have left the house without it.

ME:   I know. (Trying to continue sewing)   I’m 52, Mom, I’m not going to start now.

MOM:   Well then at least bite your upper and lower lips a little, that will give you some color…..

ME:   Yes, Mom.  I remember you doing that a lot.  I thought it was because you were angry.

MOM:   Well, most of the time I was mad at one of you kids, but I did it to keep my lips pink when I didn’t have a lipstick handy.

ME:   That’s nice, Mom.

MOM:   What is the  stuff you are putting in that potholder?
ME:   Well, I usually use squares from an old,  cut up mattress pad because  they are soft and thick, but this is a new product that is very thin but has a super heat-resistant layer.

MOM:    That’s nice. I’d put that on top of a square of mattress pad if I were you.

ME:    I was thinking about that……I’m not sure if I trust it.

MOM:    Listen to your Mother….

ME :   Okay, Mom, you’re probably right.
MOM:   No “probably” about it.   I am also right about your hair – why don’t you get that short cut you had when you finished high school?  That was your best haircut, it looked so nice.

ME:   Mom, that was 1976 and every girl had that Dorothy Hammill skater  haircut. I’m not going to get a haircut that is 34 years old and only looks nice when you spin around.

MOM:   OH Jo, you are so rigid sometimes.  You are so like your stubborn Scott(ish) father.

ME:    Excuse me? You don’t think this is from your Irish blood?
MOM:    Don’t be ridiculous.  And watch the binding there, you aren’t going to have a nice mitered corner if you sew too close to the edge and….

ME:    Damnit.  I went to far.  These are going to look like they were done when I was having a martini…
MOM:    Or two.  I don’t know how you drink those things.
ME:    I don’t know how you drank vodka and Squirt. That stuff was sour and vile.

MOM:    Vodka and Squirt was a lovely drink, and if you had 6 kids and a sick husband you would be pretty damn happy to enjoy one at the end of the day.

ME:   Oh, yeah, true, I don’t blame you.  How does this potholder look?
MOM:    Well, not bad. Maybe a red ribbon from the 4H judges.  I don’t know why you are worried about it, you should be working on one of those unfinished quilts.
ME:    I know, I know.  I just wanted to sew a little something and get warmed up.
MOM:  That’s my girl.  Now relax, slow down, and remember to get up and stretch once in awhile.

And that is pretty much how it goes.  I love sewing on her machine (it will always be her machine.) On the days I sit down to sew and don’t hear her voice I never sew as well.  I miss her terribly, and sewing at that machine is the time I feel closest to her.

I will often wear one of her old necklaces to work, and frequently wear a silver thimble keep on a long chain. Inside is her sewing thimble.  I like “taking her to work” with me, especially when we open a new exhibit.  I always hear her quilt commentary in my head.  (She swears more now that no one else can hear her.) Whenever I see paisley fabric fat quarters I pick them up and  think, “I’ll put these away for her birthday…” and then remember that I can’t give them to her anymore.  The realization still makes me weepy.

Then I think about it. The power of love continues to astonish me. Not even death can diminish or  alter the love between a mother and child.  If anything,  the love  has grown  stronger, wiser and is more nourishing.   I certainly keep learning from her, and I know I'm a better quilter because of her.

Thanks Mom – I love you, and heck - I love  your Bernina,  but mostly because it keeps me close to you. A girl never stops needing her mother. I promise to work harder on that 1/4 inch seam thing, too.