Chapter 14 - The Wedding Dress
One afternoon, a young woman called asking whether I still did alterations.
I nearly said no.
Then she explained that her wedding dress had belonged to her mother.
The seams needed rebuilding.
Something about the request touched me.
I agreed.
Soon my sewing room came alive again.
Pins.
Thread.
Fabric.
The steady hum of the machine.
Daniel stopped by and stood in the doorway.
“I haven't heard that sound in years.”
“What sound?”
“The sewing machine.”
He smiled sadly.
“I used to hate it.”
“I know.”
“Now I miss it.”
I looked at him.
“Funny how that works.”
The machine had once represented poverty to him.
To me, it represented survival.
Now perhaps it represented neither.
Maybe it simply represented work.
And love.
May you like
And the fact that beautiful things can be repaired when someone is patient enough to follow the seam.
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