June 17, 1920, the day Mom was born. Today is special. Yes, today is also Father's Day, and it is special as well. Both my parents are dead now, and I miss them.
Today, in this post, I remember Mom. I found this poem many years ago and it stuck with me. So today, I share it with you. I have lots of memories of Mother sitting at that Kenmore, and later on, that Singer sewing machine.
Days When I’m Sewing
A thousand things remind us of our mothers----
But days when I’m sewing you return
Most easily: in the mystery of laying
A tissue pattern out to best advantage,
In the sissors’ clean bite of the crispy goods,
The basting (thank you for insisting on it),
The stitching and the ultimate delight
Of seeing garments grow to perfect fit.
Some mothers come back in poetry
Or music, or laughter, or in gardens----
But days when I’m sewing, I admit
I never can be certain whether my
Hands happily repeat the tricks you taught,
Or these are your hands , come alive in me.
Elaine V. Emans
P.S. I'm sure Mom and Dad are celebrating her birthday and Fathers Day in Heaven!
No comments:
Post a Comment