My friend Jean celebrates a birthday tomorrow. We have been friends since we were 11, so it isn’t surprising that many things make me think of her, remind me of something we did together. Tonight I was sewing up a cloth diaper, and there isn’t a time I sit down to my machine that I don’t remember that it was she who taught me how to use one. Jean was quite proficient at making things from a pattern, and at one point we were supposed to be working together on a skirt, if I recall. I didn’t end up being much help, and still to this day have never made anything from a pattern. But I am grateful to her for patiently showing me the basics- threading a bobbin, using the pedal, etc. It allowed me to continue on my half-hearted way in sewing without being afraid of the machine, which I was before. Just like shop class helped me not fear power saws, Jean calmed my worries of ever sewing my fingers shut.
Jean lives in Canada these days with her husband and two beautiful children, and I haven’t seen her in years. However, she recently shared with me how meaningful it is to her that we were friends while teenagers, and how knowing she has friends that go that far back is a comfort. I couldn’t agree more. Enjoy your day, Jean. Thanks for all the memories.