Madge

I named my sewing machine, not long after I brought her home last March. Her name is Madge. She has been good to me. I brought her home on a Sunday, after looking at the April issue of Country Living magazine. I was so inspired by an article in there about slipcovers, that I had to learn how to sew. After calling the fabric store, adult education at the local High School, and friends to see if anyone could teach me, I just decided to give it a go myself. We have spent many nights together since then, and I am addicted.

Madge was my husband's grandmother. I never had the pleasure to meet her, but I hear she was a fine lady, and I think that her and I would have much to talk about. We share the same favorite flower (hydrangeas), she loved to cook, she could sew and knit.

Last spring, while Frank was working late, I tucked the kids into bed, and was sewing away when I got the strangest feeling that I was not alone. I was scared enough to call Frank and tell him I needed him to come home, and he did. I felt like someone was over my shoulder. This happened a few other times after as well. I would be alone sewing, late at night, and the feeling would come back. Too strong to shake. Now I realize, I am not alone when I sew. There is somewhere there with me. I think that it is Madge. Perhaps she is giving me tips, or maybe she is sitting with a cup of tea, just enjoying. it doesn't matter of course, I am just glad she is there.

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