What My Mum Gave Me

What My Mum Gave Me

When I think of my mum, I don’t just think of the things she made — though there were plenty of those. I think of the way she stitched patience into me, even when I resisted it.

She taught me to knit when I was small, though my contribution was mostly dropped stitches and tangles. She never seemed flustered by it. She’d unpick, show me again, and we’d carry on. She told me once that she was “knitting a rice pudding,” when I pestered her to know what she was making. I believed her, because she had that kind of twinkle in her eye.

Mum had a way of turning life on its head. When I was a baby, she took her wedding dress, cut it up, and made it into a swimming costume. She wore it to a holiday camp and ended up winning “Miss Butlins.” That was her: bold, resourceful, and a little bit cheeky.

I have some of her textile work now — a tapestry of the church in our hometown, two cross stitches she made for family weddings. They’re waiting for me to hang them on my own walls, waiting for their pride of place. When I look at them, I don’t just see her hands at work, I see the through-line of her life: the way she made things beautiful, and how she taught me to do the same.

It’s been two years since we lost her. Two years since we opened Four Otter Craft Studio. Two years since I finished my final project for my MA. These threads are knotted together in my heart — loss and beginning, grief and growth.

And maybe that’s what she gave me most of all: the reminder that life is stitched together from contrasts, and it can still be beautiful.

Nessa