Reflections

Needle-Time is a fictional piece written to bring to life the magic that surrounds the love of carrying on the tradition of the needlearts from generation to generation. Join me for a new story each issue that will reflect the strong bond formed between Aunt Lilly and Molly through their special needle-time.

Last issue Molly faced her deepest fear with the help of Aunt Lilly. Join us this issue as Molly helps remind Aunt Lilly that love should be celebrated at all times.

“Celebrating Love through Stitching"

Aunt Lilly sat and stared at the same vibrant painting of a bright yellow vase of sunflowers for two hours -- a Van Gogh replica. The doctors told her to expect another six hours of waiting.

The colorful picture did nothing to ease her anxiety. In fact, it irritated her to have to look at something that screamed ‘be happy’ when she in fact didn’t want to be happy at all. Her father was having a quadruple bypass and all she wanted to think about was how awful life would be if something bad happened in that operating room.

Before she left her house that morning, she thought about taking her stitching with her to pass the time. But she decided last minute that she needed to concentrate on her dad’s surgery, not distracting herself.

Another hour passed before she saw the little girl bouncing down the wide hallway by her mom’s side. Aunt Lilly’s heart softened as her niece skipped to meet up with her. Molly appeared in front of her with a tote bag and a big smile.

“I brought us some stitching!”

Her jovial spirit summoned the attention of all the strangers sitting close to her in the waiting room. Their faces shifted upwards into tender smiles as they admired Molly’s bright hope.

The last thing Aunt Lilly wanted to do was take her mind off her dad. But, Molly was too young to understand that. “Of course you did,” she said with a weak smile.

“I thought we could make a memory quilt for Grandpa and surprise him with it when he comes home!”

A pang of alarm bolted through Aunt Lilly. What if he didn’t make it home?

Molly handed her a sketch of her idea. “See, we could have six squares, two on each row. Each square would tell a different story. The top one could be of him as a little boy, then the one next to it could be of him and Grammy getting married, and I was thinking for the third one…” As her voice trailed on like happy little whispers of hope, Aunt Lilly held back tears that threatened to pour down her face from her already swollen eyes.

“Here, Aunt Lilly, you can sew the picture of you, Mommy, Grammy, and Grandpa onto this square,” she said as she handed her the purple polka-dotted fabric.

She took it without looking into the little girl’s concerned eyes. “Okay, let’s get started,” she said, forcing the sing-song back into her voice.

Molly slid into the seat next to her and the two began stitching while Molly’s mom motioned that she’d go get them some drinks. Aunt Lilly swallowed the tears, trying hard to keep them hidden from Molly. She plunged the needle into the fabric and concentrated on the smooth rhythm of the backstitch. With each stitch, she felt herself relax.

They passed the next hour stitching; side-by-side with an occasional smile. She escaped into the peaceful world of the needle, thread and fabric. Soon, the strangers disappeared from her mind, the echoes of silence quieted, and her trembling hands steadied.

A few minutes before the doctors came to bring her the good news, she once again glanced up at the painting and this time took a closer look at the intensity with which the artist mirrored Van Gogh’s work of art. This time she noticed the highlights illuminating the painting like rays of sunlight. The brush strokes surfaced, celebrating the life blooming from the canvas.

Thanks to Molly, she rediscovered that stitching didn’t take her away from her thoughts of her dad. In fact, it did just the opposite. It celebrated his life. Stitching was so much more than just a needle, thread, and fabric. It was a way to celebrate the great love she had for those most special to her.