My Grandma used this treadle sewing machine her whole life, and then my Mom and I used it too. It requires no electricity and is driven when you rock the treadle back and forth. This machine will sew anything, which the scar on the palm side of the most expressive finger on my left hand attests! I was too young to remember the incident but the blood curdling scream that my toddler’s voice made must have woken the dead!
Why am I sending this old thing to be repaired I asked myself? Then I realized I have kept it as a shrine to Grandma. In one of the drawers is a letter she wrote to me not long before she passed. And there are also cardboard quilt patterns that she cut herself and the thimble she wore on her finger. This old piece of functional furniture is a link to the past for me. Another example of finding the sacred in the everyday.
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