I sew for other people. Most of my work consists of hemming pants, replacing zippers and other mundane things most other seamstresses pass onto me in so they can pursue more exciting sewing jobs. My job is a service as much as it is to earn extra money.
Once in a while I make a wedding dress, or a rodeo blouse, quilt or something else that is challenging and very beautiful.
Lately, I have been fixing tiny holes in tiny pairs of shorts that belong to a very tiny girl in grade school. They are her favorite and they came from the store with distressed places to simulate wear and tear. I usually make a patch from old jeans that match, that I sew behind the distressed parts, so her skin or under wear doesn't show through.
I have several boxes of old jeans in assorted colors that I keep for future quilts and patches.
I decided to organize the jeans in separate boxes according to color, so I don't have to haul all six boxes out for one scrap. Most of these jeans are already cut up, zippers, buttons, seams and holes already discarded. Occasionally I will find a whole set of jeans, but it is rare.
While sorting, I discovered an intact pair of Big Smith overhauls that were about a size 3. As I held these up to examine, to my surprise a sob emitted from my throat that had come up somewhere from my heart, and tears sprang from my eyes.
I was picturing the tiny boy who used to wear these. They were his favorite and he requested them daily. Sometimes they had to go through the wash, and the boy was beside himself until they were safely back on. Once upon a time, inside these now forgotten "Smiths" a little heart beat. A little boy would bring dandelions and uprooted sunflowers as his gift to me. Peanut butter and jelly was spilled on them many times. Knees were scuffed and repaired. I even have a picture of him hanging by the straps on a nail, in the shop, laughing with his daddy beside him.
This little boy has grown up. He is now an amazing young man, who earned an engineer's and a master's degree. He has a beautiful wife, a house, and four precious daughters of his own. He is the one looking for a job right now, and his heart is worried for his family's future.
But the younger version of the boy doesn't exist anymore. And I miss him. I miss the questions that came from his intelligent head. "Mom, What's inside glass?" he asked one day when he was about three. I was always was amazed at him.
Turn around they are two, turn around they are four, turn around they are grown with babes of their own. That literally happened to me.
D2 and I were talking this morning, she is eager to have their education over, but then said if she wishes for the time to pass, then her little ones will be grown. So she decided to enjoy each minute, the piles of laundry, diapers to change and all. She is wise. I think I enjoyed my time as a young mother. It was busy though and just flew past.
sorry for the nostalgia. I was rather surprised at it myself.
new mantra: enjoy life as it comes