Sunday, January 1, 2012

In the beginning

there was a very skinny boy who wore suits to work every day, and a girl who loved him very much.

When he wore out his dress shirts from use, fraying the collar or poking an elbow through a sleeve (again and again and again), I claimed his castoffs as my favorite pajamas. And for years, he wore his dress shirts to work, and I wore them to sleep. They're so soft, worn down like chamois, after he wore them down to threads, and I loved them.

Then we had a baby and a baby and another, and the skinny boy's shirts no longer fit this thrice-mama for sleeping. But I couldn't let them go.

This was an idea years in the making. I'd save his soft shirts, all soothing blues and grays and soothing fibers. One day, I'd make a quilt. Never mind that I don't know how to sew. I filled a basket in the closet.

When that third baby turned out to be a boy, I saved his little button-downs, too, as he outgrew them.

Not too long ago, I realized that my baby is old enough to sleep predictably, I had room in my life to begin a new hobby, and my basket overfloweth.

It's time to learn to sew.