I first learned how to sew from my mother. On her early Singer (no, I don't know what type, I'll find out next time I visit her), she made many of our clothes when we were children. She made clothes for our dolls (I still have some). And it was sewing for my Barbies that first brought me to her sewing machine.

While I continued to sew off and on through high school, I went off to college and had many more important things to attend to than sewing. As many young people do, I drifted from my parents through my 20s.

Somewhere in my early 30s, as I settled into being a single professional woman with a (rental) home of my own, I wanted to sew again, but had no sewing machine. My dear mother was absolutely thrilled to hear this. You know, by the time a child reaches a certain age, it's not so easy to find the perfect Christmas or birthday gift, resulting so frequently in the emotionless (however useful) check. But here was something mom could do for her daughter: buy her her first Singer. Twenty years later, it still sits before me, and is my only machine.

About ten years ago, when I visited her, I noticed that she had the same pin cushion she'd had for years; we spoke of the memories that evoked. A week after I returned home, the mail arrived and in it was a package from mom-- her beat-up, old, made-in-Japan pin cushion with a note describing how, as she prepared it for sending, she worked out all the hidden needles that had buried themselves deep in its flesh over the decades. She spent hours in front of the TV gently seeking and removing needle after needle after needle. How many years were expressed in each of those buried needles, I wondered? How many blouses and skirts and nightgowns and doll outfits?

This morning, having used every pin in that cushion for my current project, I faced the "naked" cushion. I picked it up and slowly massaged it, seeking (with care) those sharp points that revealed yet another pin. Some tried to escape me, seeking to remain hidden, and just when I was about to put the cushion down and go on to the day's next task, the tip of my finger would prick another needle point, and back at it I would attend... along with memories of mom...

A touching story.
That pincushion is
priceless for memories.

Thank you for sharing this story. It brought memories back for me. My mother taught me how to sew.

What a sweet memory you have..very touching..gave me chills and a lump in my throat...my mom also sewed and quilted.. sweet memories....I sure miss my dar mom who passed Sept "09"..seems like yesterday

What a wonderful story & memories. My mother passed away in 2007. I have her Singer sewing machine & her pin cushion. Except I haven't used it, preferring instead to leave it with her pins & needles in it exactly like when she last used it. Now her machine I am most definitely using. It is what I am using for all of my quilt piecing.

Sometimes the simplest things bring back such wonderful memories:)

amazing...

Isn't it wonderful??? I recently inhereted my Great Aunt's pincushion...just a simple old red tomato...but it has heart. I can feel her in it. I know that sounds kinda dumb, but I look at it and remember being with her.
She had some corsage pins stuck in it...and they are staying. I never use them, but they are still with her old pin cushion....

What wonderful memories. I hope you, as well, get to pass on that pincushion someday.

Really made me miss my mom......she is/was my best friend. Lot's of treasures and stories remain. What a blessing.