Life's a Stitch

I have a small cutco knife that fits perfectly in my tiny sized hand, as it did in my mother’s. When I cook it links me to her in a special way.

Four weeks ago we lost a dear friend suddenly. They moved to their retirement house last year, but while it was being built, spent the winter in a small vacation cottage with a big view. I painted that view for his wife, hopefully connecting her to happy memories.

When we were new to BC, (35 years ago!) I answered a classified ad in the local newspaper and joined a group of PC Jr computer owners. We used our amber or green monitors and noisy keyboards to input basic DOS commands and add memory and storage space to our boxy CPUs.

It was there I met my friend, Hugh, a Scottish dad figure for me for many years. After he passed away, and years later, when his wife moved from their house, we helped pack up his workshop and were allowed to help ourselves to items we might use. We had a lot in common: Silver smithing, wood working and stained glass… there’s not a day that goes by that C doesn’t use one of Hugh’s tools. He’s built a memory wall in his workshop, sort of a shrine to Shubie (H’s childhood nickname).

The knife, the tools, not just household stuff, but items that bring us comfort and bind us to important people from our past.