My mother was an incredible seamstress. There wasn't much she didn't sew & she always made it so well. As a kid I wasn't always happy with what she chose to sew for me but there were numerous times I requested a certain pattern in an effort to stay current with fashion. (Stuff we'd all laugh at now.) Mom loved Bernina sewing machines. She thought they were reliable. So my sewing machine is a Bernina. Mom's old Bernina still sits just as it did the last time she used it. The empty ashtray sits off to the side. The dust continues to accumulate but somehow cleaning it all up would feel like finally wiping her away. Even Dad cannot seem to part with having it there. It's the closest we can come to actually still having her with us.