re-created

From the time I was 5 to t he age of 11 our family lived in a darling, cozy home in East Layton. It was a small, split level, Tudor-style house and my parents were masters at finding a use for every nook and cranny. In the basement was one unfinished room. It was a utility closet that doubled as the laundry room and Mom managed to carve out a small space to be her sewing spot. From the backyard we could look down into a basement window and see our mom working on some kind of creation as we played the summer days away.

This picture, this snapshot in time, flashed through my mind today as I escaped to my cool, unfinished basement. I’ve also got a little spot, amid the food storage and the moving boxes, for my sewing machine. And, today I had a stack of hole-in-the-knee pants that needed transforming. As I cut off pant legs and hemmed ‘new’ shorts, I thought of my mom and the circle that life is. Once I was the recipient of the make-do creations Mom came up with in her cellar-dweller spot: homemade clothes; remade hand-me-downs; home-spun doll outfit and costumes and toys.

She was much more creative than I’ll ever hope to be. But, as I presented their ‘new’ clothes to Dal and Kate, they were excited to have more short pants in their drawers: summer clothes to play in and wear out and get messy. And, I was grateful for a mom who used whatever she had to create a childhood of wonderful.