Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts

Saturday, 25 June 2011

The fabric of our lives

Today,  a couple of vintage tablecloths came home with me, but not before they told me a story, and maybe a life lesson or two.
I collect linen tea towels and tablecloths, so I'm always on the lookout for those at thrift shops and yard sales. Today I happened upon a yard sale for an elderly woman moving out of her home, so I thought I might get lucky.
I bought this cross-stitched cotton tablecloth, probably made from a sugar or flour sack, for 50 cents. Whether the currency is Canadian, or US, that's pretty cheap. It has significant yellow stains on it, and so I'm soaking it with homemade laundry soap again and will hang it out to dry.

While I was attempting to pay the friendly, younger woman running the sale, the elderly owner came up to me and told me the tablecloth was not for sale at the 50 cents on the sticker.  And indeed, the previous price tags on it said $10 and $8.
"My neighbour made that for me," she said. "I was going to give it to my minister." And then she grabbed it out of my hands. The younger woman reminded her that the stains made it cheaper, but the older woman insisted she could remove the discolouration with soda and vinegar.

I asked for the price of the other tablecloth I was still holding, a pretty pink linen one. The younger woman told me $2.

"All the tablecloths are $2-50," the owner interrupted,, still cradling the embroidered one. I told her that was fine, and handed over my money. Then she smiled at me, and handed me back the embroidered one.

I was surprised, but I assured her that I wanted it BECAUSE it was hand embroidered and that I was planning to remove the stains and give it new life.
I'm not sure if the stains will come out, and I might try tea dyeing it, or hanging it in the sun for a few more days. But no matter what happens, I'll remember the woman who once owned it, who cherished it even though it was stained, because it was made for her by her neighbour and it carried lots of memories from times past.
This tablecloth was part of the fabric of her life -- and for 50 cents and the time to listen to her-- now it is also part of the fabric of mine.

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