When I was about Mookie's age (9), my Grandma Murray tried so hard to get me interested in embroidering a dish towel. That side of my family is into any kind of sewing arts big time. There was hardly a time we would get together for a family gathering that someone wouldn't have some kind of project in hand. The walls at my Grandparents' house displayed wonderful pieces that were done by my grandmothers, aunts, mom and cousins. They were lovely!
I remember Grandma letting me pick out my pattern, showing me how to do the stitches like it was yesterday (this is one of my most vibrant childhood memories). She tried so hard to get me going on it. She'd keep it at her house and mention getting it out each time I'd visit (to which most of the time I'd decline). She'd brag to her friends about how small and even my stitches were, how similar they were to her mother's. And what happened to my first dishtowel? It is still unfinished in a box in the attic. My poor grandma! It pains me that I didn't take a greater interest then.
Yesterday when I picked out my pattern, it all came rushing back. It was like I could hear my grandma re-telling all the instructions she laid out for me more than 25 years ago. Each poke of the needle & drag of the floss brings back sweet memories of a grandma I miss so dearly even though she's been gone 17 years. It also makes it very, very obvious to me too that no matter if your child is interested in what you are doing together it's the time taken and encouragement and trying to impart something that you enjoy in a non-pushy manner that matters. It sticks.
