For years, I enjoyed having my grandmother’s Singer sewing machine in my guest bedroom, ready to use on a moment’s notice.
I'm not a seamstress by any stretch, but it came in handy through the years and even pushed me out of my comfort zone a few times.
Grandmother bought the machine in 1945 and handed it down to my mother many moons later. I love this picture of the two of them in 1948, a few months before my mother married.
I still remember the day Mother told me she had bought a new machine and asked if I would like to have the Singer. I nearly cried the day it arrived, and the sight of it there in front of the window in my guest bedroom brought a certain pleasure to each day that followed.
But when my guest room became a man cave in 2015, the sewing machine had to go. My mother offered to babysit it until further notice, but I couldn’t bear to be without it, so, in the meantime, it sat in the foyer, cabinet folded, lonely and unused, collecting dust.
That all changed a few months ago when I came to a sudden decision. While sitting in bed one evening, it occurred to me that the solution was right in front of me.
My dressing table, in all frankness, was never used, so I decided to let my daughter take it and put the sewing machine in its place. A sewing machine in my bedroom was not the ideal scenario, perhaps, but the decision was made and that was that. Done deal.
Since I made the switch, I have been delighted with the change and have used the old Singer many times.
Not for anything big, but for a dozen little things.
Without a doubt, I will continue using the Singer for as long as it keeps running. I’m even thinking I might try and resurrect my dress-making abilities, despite how limited they are. The last dress I made, by the hardest and with a lot of help from my mother, was when my daughter was in elementary school, if that tells you anything.
Sharing with Mrs. Olson.