Forgotten Love Rekindled

Once upon a lifetime ago, I loved sewing. As a little girl, I'd watch my mom sew really beautiful dresses for me--for my first day of school, for my Brownies induction ceremony, for a birthday party... until she didn't. My brothers and I were growing like weeds and Mom had to go to work to help make ends meet. The sewing machine sat curiously in a lonely corner. After some years and some really well-timed hinting, she opened up the machine and taught me to use it--just a little. I made simple Barbie clothes by recycling fabric of outgrown clothes.

When I got to junior high school and got the chance to sign up for sewing classes, I sure did! I spent all my babysitting money on fabric and patterns and made my own beautiful outfits (at least I thought so at the time). I sewed dresses, jumpers, and the first pants I was ever allowed to wear to school (1970). I was in Heaven cutting up those beautiful fabrics with Mom's orange-handled Fiskars that were only for sewing. (Dad had surprised her with a pair of Fiskars for her birthday one year. He'd heard they were the best for sewing). You were in big trouble if you were caught trying to use those for cutting paper!

Eventually, I grew up and sewed curtains for my apartments, a wedding dress, baby layettes, and, when our daughters arrived, adorable little matching sister dresses and jumpers. I was proud to have my own "for sewing only" scissors. Those happy times cutting out fabrics and patterns came to an end when I had to have some surgery on my wrists. I sewed a couple flower girls dresses and prom gowns for our daughters years after that and even an occasional curtain for an unsightly classroom cabinet after I became a teacher. But my hours wandering the fabric store and excitement over cutting out a potentially beautiful creation surrendered to raising children and grading papers.

Until COVID19 that is. Suddenly, there I was--recently retired, stuck at home, and it occurred to me--I could sew masks. I knew there was fabric in a box in the basement I could put to good use. But, where were my "for sewing only" scissors? No clue. I searched high and low and came up empty handed. So, I made do with some very old, used for paper scissors. There was no pleasure in the nice clean cut, that special sound of fibers succumbing to the sharp blades of my "for sewing only" scissors. I couldn't stand it! I put on one of the clumsily cut masks and headed over to our local Joann Fabrics the first day it was opened to the public again, and I bought my new purple-handled "for sewing only" Fiskars scissors. I loaded up on pretty home decor fabrics and headed home.

Right away I got out my Sharpie and wrote "for sewing only" on both sides of the handles of my new Fiskars. I once again heard that crisp, sweet sound of fibers giving way to sharp blades as I cut fabric for bowl cozies, then kitchen window valances, then table runners, then fancy pillows... I found my love of sewing again, that great satisfaction coming from creating something useful and lasting with my own two hands, with a little help from my sewing machine and my "for sewing only" Fiskars.