It began quite a while ago, and became something of a joke among the family. My dear, sweet grandmother was dividing her most precious of possessions. We had no idea what to expect, she didn't have much other than medical expenses, so any assets she did possess would have to go towards paying those off. She did however have a wedding ring, a sewing machine, and a clever sense of humor. Her wish was for me to have her beloved sewing machine, and for my little sister to have her diamond wedding ring. My sister and I got a solid laugh out of it then, and we still do to this day. Though we would never go pawning my grandmothers belongings, the monetary difference between these gifts was significant. So you can see why it became a little joke between the two of us. "She got diamonds, and all I got was an old sewing machine!" Some joke that it was favoritism, others that it was fate. I like to think the latter.
As I said before, my grandmother was clever. She was also witty, stubborn, and sentimental. So I like to think that she knew what she was doing all along. Or that she had some preconceived notion of what would become of us or what we would make of ourselves. After she passed, her gifts to us became even more meaningful, not just to honor her memory, but because as we grew, we realized how fitting these gifts had been. My sister has always had a wild yet nurturing soul. And there is not a doubt in my mind that she will make an absolutely glorious teacher, mother, and wife one day. I, on the other hand, am impulsive, curious, and flighty. I always loved art. I wanted to know everything about it and know how to work with every medium. When I was little, I asked my grandmother to teach me how to sew. She did. I loved it. And had I stuck with it, I may have turned out to be some sewing superstar (is that a thing? It should be). But I my curiosity drew me to other art forms such as drawing, ceramics, painting, music making, and so on and so forth. But suddenly I was older, and she was gone. So I sat down at that old sewing machine, and let it all come back to me. One stitch at a time.
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