Let me tell you about my afternoon. Not that you will be interested … unless you are one who likes to sew.
When I left the big house to come to my sweet little widow’s home, I sold or gave away almost everything. Except one. I kept my fabric. There has always been the rumor that she who has the most fabric when she dies will win the contest. I might certainly qualify.
I fell in love with fabric in high school where I took Home Economics every single year. We not only learned to cook, we learned every type of sewing. It came in handy after I married. I sewed my own clothes, sewed my daughter’s prom dresses, and later quilts for my daughter and my grandchildren, doll quilts, and even cozy lap quilts for all the men in the family. I wrote them a note asking then to put it over their knees when they are old and think of me. When my husband died I made a crazy quilt of all his neckties, embroidering around each one, as crazy quilts are done.
But today, looking toward my 91st birthday tomorrow, I took an honest moment and knew I would not be sewing any more quilts. So I spent the afternoon sorting out these fabrics, measuring, labeling, packaging them to sell at my garage sale next month.. No one will pay what the’re worth, but then no one can know what they’re worth to me.
If it’s possible that we come back and lead another life, who knows. I may be a famous athlete. Then at some time I will have to decide what to do with my medals, because I can’t take them with me. Nor can I take my favorite skillet. or my money, or my million photographs, or my wonderful Clarks shoes, or my . . . . . . . . .