The Stitching of a Life

The first snow blankets my garden. Gone are the slate markers and ground cherries and painted geraniums. The tomato and squash trellises are stacked in the garage. And a brown paper sack of moon flower seeds hangs to dry for next spring’s planting.

But for maybe the first time, I’m not sad. I’ve got something for my hands to do this winter, something not related to a keyboard. I’ve returned to my autobiographical embroidery project, my reward at the end of a day of writing and caring for parents. Last year, I wasn’t sure. Would this project work?

It’s working.

Last winter I stitched through my childhood—remembering Herman the duck, Jersey cows, the horror of burnings at the stake as I leafed through the Martyrs Mirror, my beloved Yoder School, and jumping rope.

I finished my teenage years—the peace symbol, the Vietnam War, the Watergate scandal, dating Steve, and graduating from high school.

As I stitched I listened to audio books and documentaries and book reviews. And I remembered—how we went to college after we had kids, how our honey bees paid our tuition, and how we were so poor that we ate turkey drumsticks every Sunday lunch and cornmeal three ways: mush, bread, and porridge.

I stitched the births of my two children and the deaths of my grandparents—three of them in a just a little over a year.

I moved through my college years and graduate classes, stitching diagrams to show what I learned, and where.

And I stitched through the busy years of teaching—middle school writing and literature, a gifted program, prison classrooms, college, and parent education.

And by the end of the winter, before rhubarb pushed crinkly, succulent, red and green leaves through the garden soil, I had come to the end of the twentieth century when I was smack in the middle of my life, that is if I have my parents’ longevity.

By now, I’ve also lived through a quarter of the twenty-first century, meaning I’ve got two-and-a-half decades of embroidery to catch up to myself. At three images per year, this is 75 images to go.

But for once in my life, I’ve got a project without a deadline. And I’m going to enjoy every stitch.