My mom has a 45 year old black and gold Singer sewing machine. It was part of her wedding gifts. My dad has this joke he’s been repeating since I was a child. He says he was hoping for a scooter but my mother’s family sent a sewing machine instead. He hugs it and says this is all the dowry I got. Lol. Annoys my mom no end! That sewing machine has so many memories attached to it that I forbade my mom from giving it away, even though she too has an electronic one now. I am planning to carry it here with me on one of my India trips. I am going to restore it and keep it in my craft room as an heirloom. My mom finds it amusing but what does she know. Even today I remember in vivid detail, her form bent over it in the late afternoons when she was done with household tasks, squinting her eyes to thread the needle, expertly popping in the bobbin without needing to look, and the rhythmic train-like whir of the wheel as she sewed. My grandmother only wore blouses sewn by mom for as long as she lived. Even when my mother lived thousands of kilometers away she would parcel her blouse pieces and my mom would sew them and send them back. She sewed all the baby clothes both my kids wore. She found it funny when I asked her to make clothes for them. In the age of fast fashion when people buy the latest on a weekly basis, I just felt this need to slow down, to have my kids experience the warmth of hand-crafted clothes made by their grandmother, perfect because they were imperfect. Those blankies, tops and teeny tiny dresses have been stored away carefully in case I ever become a grandmother. : ) Gardening.. more on that later.