That afternoon she phoned city hall to have them take her off their license renewal list. Then she phoned up the owner of the business she contracted to and told them she was finished; after completing the jobs she had on hand, that would be it. There was no plan, no future “other” that she was thinking of filling her time with; she had just had enough late nights and high-pressure deadlines. (I remember how often she worked through the early morning hours for clients who just HAD to have their drapes installed the next day, only to have them hang on Mom’s wall for days while she waited for someone to pick them up.) If anyone had told her two weeks earlier that she was going to quit, she would never have believed them. She loved what she was doing - no mistake about that - but Dad was retiring from teaching, and while driving home, realized that it wouldn’t be fair for him to want to go somewhere and for her to have to say that she couldn’t because she had an order to complete. No. Not anymore.
My Mom never looked back, but that isn’t to say that she stopped sewing. Quite the contrary. She continued doing what she loved, but at her own pace and of her own choosing. She and Dad began to explore new options that time and a little money could provide: an Alaskan cruise, trips to visit friends in the west, a cross country drive to the eastern shores. In between, she continued to sew for herself and the sheer joy of it: a new bedspread and valance for her beautiful bedroom curtains, the material for the valance cut in such a way that when everything was stitched together, a repeat pattern of flowers flowed from end to end. Today, she can’t see well enough to perform the delicate stitching that she once could, but at 87, she still knows more about sewing than I ever will.
Mom apprenticed as a seamstress in her native Germany when she was 18. She had always known she would be a dressmaker; even at the age of 5, before entering school, she was making dresses for her dolls. When she moved to Swift Current in the 1960s, there was little call for her ability to sew clothing, but she found employment working for drapery stores. Accomplished and inventive, she taught herself how to make sheers, liners, and valances (very often made of heavy velvet that required a lot of hand stitching), side panels, and bedspreads. When we moved to the house I grew up in, and where she still lives, she established her home business under the basement stairs by tucking her sewing machine beneath it. (I remember hammering in the nails on the underside of those stairs so she would have a place to hold her many spools of thread.) Having built a work table by setting a 3’x8’ blanket padded, and cotton covered, piece of plywood on two sawhorses, she used it to pin valances, fold pleats, and iron yards and yards of fabric. She showed me that anything was possible if you put your mind to it.
Perhaps Mom could see the writing on the wall as homeowners transitioned to ready-made, loose flowing window coverings, but I think unlikely. She quit because retirement for both her and my Dad was about being together, free of obligations, and seeking adventurers of their own choosing. I understand that because Dave and I went through the same thing. When we were approached about selling the store, I felt I was too young not to continue working. Dave said that if I was going to find employment elsewhere, he might as well work too, but he saw no point in selling the business and then doing so. We realized that we had a choice, and so we retired. Together.
I wasn’t driving home from the stores when the light-bulb over my head went on, but the other day I came to the same conclusion my Mom had so many years ago; it was time for me to give notice.
The last eight years have been wonderful, and I have very much enjoyed sharing my life with those who chose to read my column. I say good-bye with no regrets because writing is a part of me, and there is so much more of it I want to explore. Thanks to all of you for sticking with me through my mostly sane, occasionally zany, literary journey. Remember to look ahead to all the possibilities that await you. The best is yet to come if you choose it to be so.
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Disclaimer: opinions expressed are those of the writer.
