Hand Stitched

Years ago (a life time really)when I lived in Guatemala, I became friends with an amazing woman; Irma. We met at a health clinic we were both volunteering at. The language barrier was challenging to our relationship at times, but more often brought us lots of laughter. She was raising her niece and nephew, her sister and brother in law had been killed in the genocide war that was going on. Making ends meet was often a challenge for her, it was a sewing machine and sewing skills that made the financial difference for them. Like many women, She would sew clothing, mostly traditional indigenous tops called huipiles which have beautiful embroidery on them. It was becoming more popular to have the embroidery done with a machine, it showed a sign of wealth to own a top with this style.
Irma created huipiles full of intricate designs, colours and patterns. Simply stunning. But her preference was to sit and hand embroider, even though they were more work. It was with her, over tortillas and beans, broken spanish and tea, that I learnt to embroider. Flowers, all different shapes and sizes. I have a few pieces from this time, the broken stitches, uneven stems, messy backing, yet perfect because of what it reminds of. Friendship, sharing a gift, a home, a meal.
I am still not any better at embroidery. Perfection or even improvement isn't what I strive for when I am embroidering, it's the quiet, the focus on the simple, the creating. I made this window trim while sitting with the kids, sharing with them stories about my friend Irma and what she taught me.
The flowers, they are still my favorite.