My mom taught me the basics of hand sewing when I was a kid. I wanted to learn after reading a biography for kids about Betsy Ross, in which they described her perfectly tiny and even stitches. While my needlework has never been anything to write home about, I know enough to be able mend a ripped seam or repair a button.
My sewing basket once belonged to my Grandpa Sid’s first wife. She died young, of a brain aneurism or something equally awful, around 1960. He married my Grandma Tutu in 1969 (three years after her first husband died) and was the only grandfather I ever knew. I adored him and I’m so happy to have this piece of his life and carry on this tiny bit of history.