A Piece of My Childhood

     If you know me, then you know my grandparents were a second set of parents to me.  If I wasn't home I was there.  I had the best grandparents.  My Grandfather was well read and  had a million and one army stories...we're still trying to figure out which ones were true!  My Grandmother could cook anything, just walking threw the front door made me hungry.  They taught me a love for the classics, an appreciation for true beauty, and the art of making something with my hands.

     My brother and I would fight over who got to stay with them on the weekend.  I don't know what my brother did that was so great when he was there alone, but I had the best memories being made when it was my turn.  My grandmother and I would sneak up to her sewing room.  God I loved it there, the sound of her sewing machine going, the great big silver jar of buttons, and some how she knew the story behind almost every one , the bags upon bags of material, and that old mannequin in the corner.  I became Rasha the world famous designer, and I'd spend hours covering the mannequin in scraps while my grandmother hemmed a dozen family members pants and skirts.

Christmas one year I got an art set, I spent all day making a sign for that sewing room door.  Dangerous, Keep Out, Woman at work it said in bright bold colors.  God what a magical time when I got to be the big girl that walked threw that sewing room door with her.

Today my father came back from my grandmothers house.  They've slowly been fixing it up to sell since her passing two years ago this October.  My sewing room of memories no longer exists.  I'd be lying if I said the thought wasn't making me cry as I write this.  She was so much more then my grandmother, she was a million amazing memories, she was my second mom, and she was my best friend.  My dad surprised me tho, he walked threw the door with that 60 year old mannequin that was my world famous model and a sewing machine of my grandmothers.  Sadly I don't know how to make the clothes for my model on it.......yet, but maybe someday my grandchild will be sitting in my craft room enjoying the sound of that old sewing machine the way I did, and another Rasha will be reborn.

My beautiful grandmother holding my son a few months after he was born