VISITS WITH MY MOTHER

My maternal grandmother, Nina Portfors, passed away suddenly in May of 1955 – just a few months shy of my sixth birthday. She lingered only a few days after suffering a stroke. My grandparents lived just a block from us, so her passing caused an unexpected adjustment.

Mother told me that in the months after Grandma’s passing she would feel her presence and influence whenever she sat down to sew, even a pull to finish Grandma's sewing projects. “I finally told her right out loud,” Mother said, “that she could come here if she wanted to, but things would have to be done my way.” 

My mother passed on 14 years ago, but sometimes she comes to visit even yet. Recently as I crocheted sweaters for American Girl dolls, I discovered that following the pattern resulted in something that didn’t exactly correspond to the picture. I hate to say the pattern is the problem. After all, it could be my misinterpretation or the wrong yarn or just plain inserting the hook in the wrong stitch. But I continue to work away at it, trying to improve my little sweaters.

In the midst of that effort the other day, Mother came to visit. Of course, it was just memory kicking in – or was it? I was suddenly about ten and learning to crochet. Mother was examining my work. “Oh, I see,” she said, “it’s increasing too much here.” That was it! Too much increasing was causing the front opening to swing out on both sides. The solution had come to me in the form of my mother’s voice. Back in the day Mother had helped me understand how to make the needed correction, and the same advice applied now. I saw what was wrong and began my own re-write of this troublesome pattern. 

A couple of weeks ago I emptied the contents of Mother’s button box onto the bar in my kitchen in order to take a picture. After that the button collection sucked me in as though it were a jigsaw puzzle. I stood at the kitchen counter for several hours sorting and matching – something I hadn’t intended to do. Absorbed in the sea of buttons, I suddenly became aware of Mother at my side.

Mother had tied some button sets together and those threads are now rotting and in need of replacement. Nevertheless, as I went to snip the thread, I felt a twinge of regret. Mother had tied this thread and I was undoing her “perfect work” so that I could replace it with new thread in my awkward way. Well, I just had to say to her, “You can come here if you want to, but we’ll have to do it my way.” We shared a quiet chuckle.

“This is like a jigsaw puzzle,” observed Mike when he came in. “Hallie would love this.” 

Yes, she would, I thought to myself, but she’s not the one who’s here today.

[The photo is the only one I have of just me and Grandma Portfors. We just didn’t take pictures back then the way we do now. Still – it seems strange to me that I was five years old before anyone thought to take this picture. Note that the film was processed in December 1955 but the photo is identified as Thanksgiving 1954.] KW