Digging Deep Under the Bed

I've been digging deep, under the bed, pulling out boxes of crafting materials. Day 15's decluttering are: a sewing box, sheets of plastic canvas, a notebook, a lace making kit, 2 randoms socks (not a pair), braid, stars, a key ring, a tape measure, popper,s Aida, a scarf and couple of balls of yarn.

As I'm writing this, the corners of my eyes are prickling, a sure sign that tears are not far away. It's time to say goodbye to the sewing box, a blue and white basket weave in plastic, with a soft blue satin lining. It's dirty, dusty and broken. And it's so difficult to release. I've been thinking about it for at least 10 years, but finally, I'm managed to work myself into a place where I can let it go.

About 40 years, I received this sewing basket from my beloved Grandma for Christmas. I can't remember getting it, but it has been part of my crafting life for quite a number of years. Although for the last 10 it has tended to sit of a shelf, just gathering dust. It's broke, it's old, it either needs to be replaced, or thrown out.  But, it is the one thing that connects me most to my Grandma. To put it simply, I see it and I think of her.

But, an object is just an object. It's not the box that's important, it's what Grandma taught me. I learned to knit when I was four. Everyone in my family could knit, and I wanted to learn. My Grandma had such patience, and she took me up on her lap and taught me. I remember one day I wanted to make clothing for my doll, and I asked my Mama to show me how to make 'proper hole, not the mistake holes'. She was too busy, and directed me to Grandma, who lived next door. Grandma showed me the art of making 'proper holes'.

Grandma showed me many other wonderful things - how to make pancakes, and ice cream, how to do 5000 piece jigsaws.  Grandma taught me the importance of listening. One day I was bursting with news, and ran into the dining room, "Grandma, Grandma!" I shouted. Grandma was in the middle of doing the accounts for my grandparents' business "One minute, Pet, and you can tell me all about it." And, sure enough, within the minute, she had finished what she was doing and was able to turn to face me. "Yes, my dear, what is it?" When Grandma listened it wasn't just any old listening. Like the knitting, it 'proper listening'. When she listened I felt I was the most important person in her world. She put down what she was doing, she smiles, and she listened, really listened. There were encouraging noises, little gasps when appropriate, and often an exclamation of 'Well! Would you believe it!"

Put a little broken, dusty sewing box in the bin is never going to be able erase those memories.  The gifts Grandma has given to me are part of who I am.