beckycochrane [userpic]

You know the smile I mean, don't you?

August 4th, 2008 (02:00 pm)

current mood: abashed

Somewhere, my mother is smiling that smug smile that ONLY mothers can smile with such maddening motherness.

When I was growing up, my mother whipped up curtains, throw pillows, dresses for Debby and me, skirts and dresses for herself, and yep, even Barbie clothes, on this old brown Singer sewing machine. At some point when her children were gone and she had more disposable income, she bought herself a new machine. My sister was not allowed near anything that plugged in--she was the Grim Reaper to small appliances--and even though I'd been banned from the Singer for breaking too many needles sewing shit on my blue jeans in high school, she gave me the sewing machine.

I hauled that thing around through college and graduate school, never using it, and at some point, I donated it to Goodwill. I didn't realize that it was one in a long line of what we call "Mother Gifts": that is, she gave them to us, but still considered them hers. When she found out the machine was gone, she was aghast:

You gave away MY sewing machine?
Well, no, it was MY machine. You gave it to me.
Not to give away! I'd have taken it back. That was the best machine I ever owned.
Who knew?

I don't sew, so recently, when we emptied her apartment, I wasn't inclined to hold on to her latest sewing machine, even though Tom and I had it reconditioned and repaired for her at Christmas year before last. I asked Tim if he wanted it, and he declined, so off it went to a consignment shop, where it sold immediately.

Now there's nothing that we could use more than a freaking sewing machine.

Mother: 2
Becky: 0


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