Before I begin today's post I want to share fabulous news. Two exciting events happened this week!!
The first. Sylvia's Secret is now in the library. Our local library has a cooperation with libraries throughout my state, which means, anyone in the state can now check out this book. Sylvia's Secret, A Christmas Story and Mary's other books
The second. The Selah writing competition announced the list of finalists My book, Fire and Thorn, a middle grade novel is a finalist. The winners will be announced the end of may at the writing convention. Here is the link if you would like more information about this story.
Fire and Thorn, a Middle Grade Fantasy and Mary's other books
Needless to say this has been a pretty exciting week!
On to today's story:
Mom was a seamstress. A natural. She never used a pattern or a tool to measure lengths or widths of fabric. She’d lay the large piece of rectangular material across the ping pong table in the basement. Shifting side to side marking her project with the cloth pencil, snipping there, trimming, and cutting, she chiseled the cloth like DaVinci chiseled stone looking for the final product waiting inside to be released.
Mom carried the pieces two at a time to her black singer sewing machine. This was the moment. The only moment when her nearest offspring was summoned. The only time when a person from the family was welcomed into her private crafting world. “Thread the needle for me.”
She never could see the tiny eye. I moistened the end of the thread and with one try drove the cotton fiber through the tiny hole. She grabbed the thread’s tail and dismissed me. My contribution ended. Within a matter of hours she’d molded, sewed, trimmed, pressed, and fitted to her frame a new pair of pants or dress.
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| Yes, I made this dress. Shocker, I know. |
Most of my childhood clothes were identical to my sisters, except the size of course. All made by Mom who first set a large piece of rectangular material across the ping pong table.
I don’t have a ping pong table. I thread my own needles. I had to teach myself how to sew because an artist like mom rarely shared the inside story. I sewed seams, ripped out the stitches, sewed them again, and ripped gain. Somehow, my oldest daughter, who was convinced she had been stolen from a crib in Buckingham’s palace had swirly, frilly, princess styles dresses every Easter as a child.
My products rarely measured up to mom’s, by my little daughter hardly knew, as long as her dress swirled.
It's a 20 - 20 year
It may be a roller coaster or smooth sailing.
Hold on!
There's no looking back. No hindsight.
There's no looking back. No hindsight.
If you're looking for some great reads whether drama, mystery, or fantasy visit my Amazon page where you will find the perfect read. Ebooks are on sale.
Mary Vee loves to travel to places like New York City and Paris and infuse these amazing places in her stories. Mary is an award-winning author and writes for her king.
Visit Mary at her Website, Blog, and her ministry blog to families: God Loves Kids. Or chat on Facebook or Twitter
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