I have been doing some cleaning out lately. I know I have written that more than once or twice but it is an ongoing battle. Our house is not big and there are a lot of big people with big stuff living here. Thus the problem lives on. I just came across this oil pastel portrait my youngest daughter made in art class and I love it. I think I will get it framed eventually. I love her sense of color, anything goes. She is so proud of her artwork and that makes it fun to enjoy with her. She told me it is an abstract.
My mom picked me up from school before lunch that special day and we drove down to the capitol building. On the way down to the exhibit I confessed to my mom that I didn't even like the picture that was being shown. I told her that it wasn't very good and that I made it in a matter of minutes as an afterthought. I was only in third grade but I knew this picture wasn't my best work at all, not even close. My mom and I giggled about it in the car. We had no idea what to expect when we got there. It turned out to be a bigger deal than we had guessed.
We ate lunch in a room and then we were escorted to the exhibit where we had to stand by our artwork on display. My mom and I quietly laughed together when we saw my picture. It was a sweet and funny moment. I was the youngest of four kids in my family and in some respects I was kind of old for my age. I knew the tongue hanging out on the sun wasn't the best and I knew the proportion was all off with the bird. I know for certain that I didn't like the bird's feet hanging down. My mom laughed with me at that. The whole thing seemed so messy and uninspired. I didn't feel proud of my work that day. I remember talking about these points with my mom. She was the best, so supportive and funny, just the best. She made you feel good in any situation.
If only my artwork could have been better that day but actually it didn't matter one bit. I had so much fun with my mom and that's really what I remember most of all. She was so fun and funny and great to be around. I was proud of her that day and every day. I was proud that I got to be by her side. It's a good memory to have.
Anyway, all of this was spurred on by my cleaning and finding and then this magazine.
"My mother wasn't a knitter, but she was a fantastic seamstress. Her work was always perfection, every last thread snipped and crease pressed. She passed on to me a deep sense of pride in my own handmade creations. Being proud of what you do or make will take you far in life."
I didn't know if this quote would get in the article because my mom didn't knit. But there it is and she was right.
My only wish is that the quote could be in the present tense.
Be proud of what you do, Knitters, I am.
best, susie