Dear Mom

This is rather an odd time to be breaking my long silence, what with all my children home and needing to "homeschool" and our first foster child arriving on Thursday - a four year old girl.  Let's just say, I don't exactly expect to be having more extra time than usual in the days ahead! 

For months my urge to write has disappeared -- gone; dissipated; vanished; dissolved; non-existent. Lately I have felt some faint flutterings inside, along with a little flame of hope that just maybe my urge will return again. Today, when I started to post these pictures on Instagram, the thought flashed into my mind that they would make a perfect "Dear Mom" post. Usually I would have let the flash go by and easily ignored it. Instead, I shrugged and said, "Why not?"

This might be the only urge that I act on for another three months but so be it. 

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I saw your handwriting today, Mom. It's not that often that I run across it these days, so I thought I'd tell you about it.

A very long time ago, when I was a little girl begging you for things to do, you made me some quilt blocks to cross stitch. I labored over them happily, undoubtedly trying your patience with endless interruptions about knots and needle threading and weird puckers. Granted, I don't remember them but it's safe to assume I was a fairly normal little girl in that department. 

You made me a little quilt with the blocks. 

And then, one day I was the Mom. I don't remember what made me come up with my grand idea but I decided it would be neat to give my daughters the same experience you'd given me. For Jasmine's fifth birthday, you made her the same cross stitch blocks you had once made me! And then you made them for my second daughter, Jennifer. And, because you weren't here anymore, I asked my sister to make them for my youngest daughter, Lillian. (This is how I know about the endless interruptions part of the deal.)

Jennifer age 5

Jasmine finished her blocks swiftly and I remember how you helped me make them into a little quilt. Come to think of it, I think you were the one who sewed them together for me, Mom. Then we quilted it.

When you made Jennifer's blocks, you sewed a pink border around each one and kept the leftover fabric in your drawer to be used when the blocks were completed. Months after you were suddenly gone, I went through your stash of fabric, Mom. There was the pink fabric with a note carefully attached. 

Jennifer didn't finish her blocks until she was nine. Since you weren't here to sew them together for me, Mom, they went in a bag on my closet shelf, along with the pink fabric with the note attached. There they have stayed, except for a time or two when I got them out and determined to sew them together. Soon. 

Jennifer turns twelve this month. 

For some odd reason, I decided that today was the day. Out came the bag and we figured out a plan and I sewed it together in no time. I thought you might be proud of me, Mom. 

Miss you. 

Love, Bethany

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P.S. On another note. Remember how you used to disappear into the bathroom at strategic times, Mom?  When everything was up in the air, you would often disappear for a reset. I get it now.  XO