Grit

Here is to another sentimental post about mothers. My mother wanted to be a fashion designer when she was young. Her father chose architecture for her. Nonetheless, she continued to make her own clothes and tailored her friends’ clothes during her spare time. When she didn’t have the money to buy a wedding gown for her wedding, she made her own. I remember seeing the pictures of her wedding when I was young, first bursting in laughter because of the pink fuzzy sweater and the brown pants that she wore, but later being struck by the utter glamour of her outfit. Recently when I asked her to tailor a woolen skirt that was too big for me, I saw her inner spark. I sat there sweetly admiring the way she touched and examined the fabric, paying minute attention to every corner of the garment while mentally calculating the fit. It was so beautiful to see the artist working away, especially the intensity of her concentration and determination. I wear my skirt with pride.

Posted by Connie

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