Full Circle

Slow stitching on a mini quilt made of two vintage handkerchiefs gave me some time to think this week. The old cotton was like gauze, really, and so fragile I needed to be mindful of where my needle tip was at all times, and how much I could safely tug on the embroidery thread.

Mostly I thought about my mom, who always carried handkerchiefs in her purse. As a kid I thought of that as one of the ladylike things a woman was expected to do. I never did the same. Like being regarded as a lady, the thought of carrying around a wad of snotty cloth in my bag never appealed much to me. I wanted a Swiss Army knife, like the one my Dad always carried in his front pocket. I bought myself a cheap one shortly after I left home. I currently carry a very nice Swiss Army knife in my purse. The handkerchief and the utility knife, that's my mom and me in a nutshell.

I was never the daughter my mother wanted, and I've always known that. I could never be a church-going teacher and mother of a large family as she wished. That was her life. What she believed to be the right life for a woman was like her handkerchief. How I lived instead was my Swiss Army knife. And now as I stitch on old hankies and think of her, I simply hope she's at peace. I am.