I am an only child. When I was young, we would travel from Tulsa to Oklahoma City to visit my Grandparents. It's about a two hour trip and we went often. There are so many things about my Grandmother's house and skills that shaped my own passions in life. One that I had never really noticed, much less appreciated, was her home made tea towels.
These are soft white fabrics which were used to make potato sacks in the old days. Now you can buy them at Hobby Lobby ($6.99 for 2). In the above photo you can see one of Grandma's stitched towels in front. Not only does this remind me how much the world has changed, there is a bittersweet sadness that goes along with it.
She can no longer stitch tea towels.
When my Grandfather died quite a while back, I was given a stack of seven tea towels Grandmother had made. I didn't think then that they were important or that they would mean so much later. I was a lot younger and very busy with life and career.
As the years went on she would stitch these in the quiet of her apartment in the senior care center while I was miles away, in Canada, Boston, or wherever.
I would be handed a new set periodically as mine wore out. I used them. The funny thing is, I never knew I needed them until I was given them. I dry dishes with them, but usually I just dry my hands on them and see them in the kitchen as I walk by doing my normal "kitcheney" stuff.
Grandmother trimmed all of her towels in blue, as it was her favorite color. Since my kitchen is red and green I would think, "Someday I need to make some towels that match my kitchen."
Her eyes are too weak to stitch these days and my towels are all getting holes in them from washing. It's like the past is disintegrating, demanding that someone fill the void.
Well, the other day I was at Hobby Lobby getting Valentines supplies and as I walked down one of the aisles there they were staring at me...potato sack tea towels. And next to them the iron on transfers made by the same company Grandma used. I casually picked up a set and tossed them into my basket along with a set of patterns. Wheeling around to the next aisle I picked out some thread in shades of red and green.
I was so pleased with the first one that I got more excited as each stitch went into it. Once finished, I was happy just to stare at it as I passed by.
Funny, it calms me. I look at it and I think, "Grandma would be pleased." She would smile and say, "You did this?" Then she would say, "Give me a hug!" and tell me how proud she was of me.
I live in Houston now and those hugs are miles away and I am almost unknown to her now as her mind grows farther from us.
So her hugs, for me, are wrapped up in a potato sack tea towel.
She can no longer stitch tea towels.
When my Grandfather died quite a while back, I was given a stack of seven tea towels Grandmother had made. I didn't think then that they were important or that they would mean so much later. I was a lot younger and very busy with life and career.
As the years went on she would stitch these in the quiet of her apartment in the senior care center while I was miles away, in Canada, Boston, or wherever.
I would be handed a new set periodically as mine wore out. I used them. The funny thing is, I never knew I needed them until I was given them. I dry dishes with them, but usually I just dry my hands on them and see them in the kitchen as I walk by doing my normal "kitcheney" stuff.
Her eyes are too weak to stitch these days and my towels are all getting holes in them from washing. It's like the past is disintegrating, demanding that someone fill the void.
Well, the other day I was at Hobby Lobby getting Valentines supplies and as I walked down one of the aisles there they were staring at me...potato sack tea towels. And next to them the iron on transfers made by the same company Grandma used. I casually picked up a set and tossed them into my basket along with a set of patterns. Wheeling around to the next aisle I picked out some thread in shades of red and green.
I was so pleased with the first one that I got more excited as each stitch went into it. Once finished, I was happy just to stare at it as I passed by.
Funny, it calms me. I look at it and I think, "Grandma would be pleased." She would smile and say, "You did this?" Then she would say, "Give me a hug!" and tell me how proud she was of me.
I live in Houston now and those hugs are miles away and I am almost unknown to her now as her mind grows farther from us.
So her hugs, for me, are wrapped up in a potato sack tea towel.
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