Repairing and Reclaiming: An hour with a sewing machine

Purim is coming. Time to figure out the costumes.

I have only ever really wanted one thing for my costume and that is to wear a cloak where I can cover my head mysteriously and have a beautiful cape flowing behind me.

It wasn't until 2003, the year that I coincidentally was diagnosed with cancer, that I discovered that I could dress up as the Elfin character I'm named after in Lord Of The Rings.

Every year I wonder if I should try something else, but I've come to the conclusion that the rest of the year I'm wearing a certain mask by not dressing as my elfin princess, and remove the mask by donning the cloak again.

I bought a cloak last year. Cheap, I admit... it was from a costume store. But it's shimmery white and looks great. Only problem is it was too long and I stepped on it a lot last year.

So today I fearfully pulled out my sewing machine to repair it. I've had this machine for years. I used to take sewing classes and my mother tried many times to teach me this art, and it never quite stuck. I'm not patient enough to measure and cut out patterns carefully. It showed with the work I did today, hurriedly pinning but not always in the right spot.

However, I love using the machine. I love the hum. I love the efficiency. When I run it, I feel wise and connected with my mother and, by extension, any other millions of women before me who had this as part of their life's work.

The truth is, I feel alienated by the fact that it doesn't fit me entirely. I feel guilty and sad that I might not be able to pass on this aspect of my own childhood to ND. As I sewed, I found myself wondering if someday when I'm retired (G-d willing) I would re-embrace this. And I know I probably won't.

There are a multitude of ways I could be, could spend my time whether I have less of it or more, but there is only one lifetime in which to do it.

I'm happy to use this machine once and awhile. I'm happy to accept that I am clumsy at it. It is not my art. Writing is.

So that's why I absolutely had to sit down here now and take this experience and turn it into the art that is eternally mine.

And on Purim, I'll be my elfin self again, and not step on the hem so much.