When my mother died, I picked two pieces of her clothing that I wanted to have. One was a dark green button-down long sleeved shirt that she had bought. It fit me well & I enjoy wearing it knowing that it used to be worn by her. The other was a short sleeved button down shirt that she had made. It fits me too, but is a bit snug. But I wanted it because it showed me what a great seamstress she was. I can never remember her not sewing. I loved hearing the hum of the sewing machine in an evening with her softly humming a song under her breath. A cup of coffee & a cigarette nearby. She made our clothes, her clothes, Dad's clothes. Not all of them of course, but still a lot. She even sewed a suit for Dad once. And she'd never buy the amount of fabric the pattern called for. She took pride in cutting out the pattern with a half yard less fabric. And then with the scraps she'd piece together a quilt she'd tie with knots & we'd remember all those garments she'd made when we recognized the fabric.
I hadn't even noticed until photographing this shirt that she had sewn the side seams with French seams. She had never owned s serger sewing machine but she could still finish her seams professionally.
On the sleeve seams she sewed a zigzag stitch near the seam stitching then trimmed back the seam.
I do a bit of sewing for myself now. And I remember Mom.
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