I love to sew, particularly hand-sewing. Each stitch becomes a memory of that moment in time. I can look at something my hands have created and recall what was happening when it was made. Perhaps it was a conversation, a peaceful moment or a television programme.
My writing can be like that also. Each word is a stitch on the page or screen, slowly building, letter by letter, into a fully-formed something – hopefully a something worth reading.
Writing by hand is my preferred practise, creating word combinations – much like stitching shapes with my needle. The words flow easily as they appear beneath my pen, covering the paper. Later I transcribe them into my computer, enjoying moving them from one form to another.
One of my current sewing projects will eventually become a quilt. Each hexagon is hand-stitched to join others to become a flower. Maths is not my strong point but I expect 24 flowers will be needed to complete the quilt. I’ll get there, stitch by stitch. It will be a gift of love to a granddaughter.
My love of sewing often finds its way into my writing. The following scrap of writing is an excerpt from Book Two; Pathway of Light from The Thousandth Way Chronicles where one of the teenage characters, Malia, is also making a quilt. The main character, Lacey, and her whānau have arrived home from a trip abroad and this is what greets the tired and hungry travellers.
Enjoy.
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The dining table was covered with scraps of colourful fabric; more of the gaily-patterned material was draped over most of the chairs, and even the furniture in the lounge. Malia was perched on a chair, pushing squares of fabric though a whirring sewing machine.
“Oh, is it that time already?” she mumbled through several pins nestling between her lips. “I thought you guys would be much later.”
“What the …?” Niko stared at Malia’s mess.
Faith gave him a feel of her elbow. “Go get the rest of the bags, honey,” she said. “You’re sewing, Malia. How lovely. What are you making?”
“A quilt,” Malia beamed. I was glad she’d removed the pins. “Mara showed me how, and Nanny’s been helping.”
“You should have stuck to cooking,” I said. My nose had informed me that nothing was happening for dinner as yet.
(Adapted from its first publishing on Nana’s Blogs from the Beach, 9 Aug 2022)
