Taking a water break, the heat index is horrible and I do not want a migraine.  

 I was so graciously gifted Donna's sewing machine. As I packed it up I looked around
into the empty sewing room and I felt her all presence.  I could see her sitting at her sewing
table with her readers down at the end of her nose trying to thread the needle. She has on a

white chiffon blouse and the window is open, the birds are singing and the sky is a brilliant blue.

The is how I always think of her up in her sewing room.

 This was her sanctuary, her escape from life and dad lol, The one place no one would bother her.
I sat with her many times watching her sew Barbie clothes, she even won a ribbon at the state fair
for a beautiful purple dotted swiss gown with lavender ribbons. She made many dresses and clothes
for Sarah. Sometimes Sarah would not want to wear them. I get it. That sinking feeling after you
worked on the perfect pleat and no amount of bribing would get her in that dress.

She made a lot of her daughter's clothes, gowns, prom dresses. I have a box of them that I found in 
my basement and I am taking them with me because they were made with love and care. 

 Donna showed me how to make a perfect pleat. How to line a jacket and make a pocket. She would meticulously pin, iron, and adjust with such talent you with think she was performing surgery. I remember her making me rip out my seams because they were off a bit and I just wanted it done. We would sit sometimes well into the darkness until we could hear dad yelling for his dinner. 

 Sometimes I would just sit and talk while she worked. I know that she would have rather been alone but

was too much of a lady to tell me to get out. I used to love looking through her patterns they were so vintage and cut so perfect.  She even had a pattern drawer like at the store. I used to think it was cool to look through her patterns and pick out what I wanted to make. I always hate cutting out the pattern from the tissue paper ad then having to cut it out of the fabric. The prep work stinks. 

 I took my box and turned around one more time to look at her sewing table, she will never sit there again. that ugly green table with the thick paint and Formica top, which was made just for her. I wonder where its life will end. The many garments created on that Formica top. I know she is happy that I have her machine and that I will think about her every time I use it. 

 I got in the car and drove the 150 steps from her house to mine, the quietude of the day, my favorite. I came inside, sweat running in my eyes,  drank some water and decide to write a bit. The journey that I am about to embark on and what I am leaving behind, ......