Day 2:

Day 1 proved to be less than successful with my hand-me-down sewing machine failing on me even though I swear I heard her say she’d be there for me.

I had resolve. I would not let a little bump in the road throw off my sewing machine journey. I borrowed my mother-in-law’s  Viking sewing machine so I could attempt to reteach myself how to sew.

The Viking’s case was well seasoned. I felt a connection to the small metal latches as I popped them open. It seemed they could tell me a 100 old stories of the hands that had touched them.

The machine sat with authority in it’s metallic green-blue glory. No, arrow diagrams were engraved in the metal to inform a novice how to thread the needle. The bobbin winder had no guide to make sure the thread was evenly spun. It’s knobs were plentiful, yet they were almost entirely unmarked.

Ah, the Viking, heavy and dependable, mocked me as if to say,

“If you have to ask you might as well not be sewing with me.”

And so it was.

I sent the Viking back to the home of  the “sewer” that had touched it’s metal latches 100s of times before.

Love,

Jess