Gifted with needle and thread, you smocked my baby clothes, little girl dresses you embroidered with cats and daisies, eyelet-ruffled pinafores, frilly petticoats finished with a grosgrain ribbon trim – your own exquisite handiwork. Crisp paper patterns laid out on the dining room table, patterns pinned with straight pins – I can see it - I come home from school, there you are with straight pins clamped between your teeth, pinking shears in hand, you shape my next new frock – I see your shoulders’ gentle curve as you lean forward, guiding cloth under the Singer’s clacking needle, treadle whirring, whirring softly. A Bo-Peep dress you fashion from crepe paper, cotton-candy pink, costume for my third-grade play, the last lines of daylight slant through the blinds as you hurry, hurry to finish by suppertime. By lamplight, late at night, yo
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