I love to hand sew but my recent excursions into this part of the thread and needle world have been limited to finishing bindings on a machine-stitched quilt.
But earlier this years, I promised myself to take the time to perfect my appliqué skills (or at least improve them).
When my vigil for my Mom started in earnest at the beginning of August, I decided it was time. So I set myself up with an appliqué project, sewing hearts.
The choice of hearts makes sense from a practice standpoint because the shape has curves, an outward pointing tip and and inward pointing top. I figured if I stuck with hearts, I'd keep my hands and mind occupied (somewhat) while spending a lot of time with Mom.
The number eight has showed up a lot with my Mom—eight children, eight grandchildren, eight years that we got to spend with just her since my Dad died, eight months of this year that she spent helping us learn how to accept the reality of not having her here with us.
Even though I did not plan it, I ended up making eight hearts. My sewing improved. Some parts of them were stitched while tears stung my eyes. There are a couple I don't even remember making.
But there are eight. Of course, if you turn the numeral eight on its side, it transforms into the symbol for infinity.
Eight hearts.
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