My Mother painted with her needle and her threads. Exquisite scenes on linen now grace my coffee table.
As I do up the dining room table cloth I am awed at the precision of each stitch.
She did the cloths in my Christmas colors, pink and green.
Eight napkins were my Christmas gift one year. The coffee table runner the next year. The table cloth was to be a two year gift.
My Mother's health was failing. Her eyes were growing dim. The cloth laid unfinished. The last Christmas Mother was in her house she finished my cloth. It was a heroic effort. Thank you Mother. I treasure my Christmas linens.
She was an artist. Her work endures and brings joy to those that sit at my table.
5 years ago