I know I promised a post about the how-to of the kitchen bride. Can I come back to that later? It's just a bit more than I'm able to manage right now. So much going on.
The girls were home this weekend to celebrate Maggie's bachelorette night in the city. It's only a few weeks now until the wedding and the excitement gathers more and more every day. Lots left to do, though it's all unfolding pretty much as planned. Once Mo was in the door and Erin was off the train from Boston, Friday night was the first night in years that it was just the 5 of us again.
Maggie arrived first after work - wearing this beautiful red blouse. I doubt she chose it purposefully for the day, but it made me gasp to see her in it! In a heartbeat, I flashed on all the memories it conjured. As if it was yesterday, I remembered choosing that fabric when I was 20 years old. Standing there at Eunice Farmer Fabrics in Saint Louis, carefully considering the cost of it, the unusual narrow width of the bolt because it was imported from Switzerland and wondering what I could make with it. I just knew that I had to have it, but I didn't buy very much. Without an inch to spare, I adapted an old pattern to add a placket in the yoke for more comfort. There wasn't enough fabric for the yoke lining so I worked in another. I tried a new way of making casings for the sleeve elastics. I was so proud of that sewing effort- so in love with the color and pattern of the fabric and my ability to make it into something I cherished.
It was just two of us in those days.
The red blouse was my favorite piece of clothing for years. I wore it on a day long ago when Erin was just a few weeks old. Did I ever imagine these days then? When my lovely, sweet girls would be all grown up and making their own happiness in such little and big ways? That they would wear this quirky, handmade blouse with a different sense of pride - because their mom made it and it's totally in style again?
Thank heavens I saved that blouse. And passed it on to these girls I love so. Who treasure it too.
We had a wonderful evening Friday. Old and new stories to share. Off they went the next day to the city with friends for a marathon night on the town. At weekend's end, the clock strikes that hour when life slips back into its inevitable routine of Now.
And we all had our nights to remember.