Sewing Box

Photo image by Holly Booth

Written today for https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2023/09/26/photo-challenge-483/

Her nan’s old sewing box stood on the table, and it was like she was there. Darning a hole in a school sock, or sewing buttons on her shirt. She loved spending time with Nanny, not just because she made the best sausage and spaghetti, but because she was always there.

A scraped knee, or being picked on at school, or when she took part in her first school play. It was strange being a grown up, and a grandmother. The world spun on its axis.

‘Gwannie, can you mend my dolly?’

‘Of course I can darling, just pass her over, and we’ll mend her like it was never broken.’

A smile, the same words used by her Nanny; time had a habit of changing, but also merging into the future. She swore, there was an aroma of lavender in the air. A favourite perfume, always worn. It was as though she was watching over both of them, enveloping the room into one big hug.

Her needle gently thread through the material, she was aware of big blue eyes looking at her. She was careful, with the dolly she knitted a few years ago. Another skill her nanny passed down. Lily was old enough now, to perhaps learn how to knit.

As her granddaughter toddled away, she smiled. She would always be there to protect this little girl. Just like she loved her own children. Just like her sewing kit, there was nothing that couldn’t be mended.

Carefully replacing the scissors, sewing kit, and reels of thread, she felt the air around her cool. An angel protecting her loved ones with a little wooden box. All the money in the world couldn’t buy love.