My first cousin Casey taught me how to cross stitch back in the 1980s.
Casey was intelligent, musical, crafty, horsey, popular, and an all-American blonde-haired, blue-eyed teen beauty, a Lady Diana. When I was a child, I wanted to be just like her when I grew up, or at least grew into “teen hood” and so I shadowed her, interests and all.
Casey sketched and I did too. Casey rode English and I followed suit. Casey went to a Women’s College, so did I. Casey stitched. I stitched. She was the best role model a girl could have: good-natured, well-mannered, patient, unflappable and kind.
Unfortunately, as the years passed most of the interests I cultivated in mimic of my cousin fell by the wayside as adulthood and its demands, pressures and responsibilities took hold. I sold my horse, I rarely drew and I stitched less and less, until there came a time when I just didn’t stitch at all. Yes, I had enjoyed all of the activities, I just no longer made time for them.
Fast forward a few years shy of a decade.
In November-ish, I believe, I “happen-chanced” on a blog called The Amateur Librarian, which regularly features updates of the author’s cross stitching works-in-progress. Inspired by her posts, I broke out the dusty bin of cross stitch materials, old cross stitch books, and leftover ornament kits and decided to stitch a bit. I started small, a few partly-finished Christmas ornaments and a few specially selected by my daughter.
I don’t see my cousin Casey much anymore, perhaps once or twice a year, but I think of her often. I don’t know if she still cross stitches, or, if like me, its a pursuit she just hasn’t pursued in a while. Perhaps, it was just a passing fad. Regardless, I’m glad she did way back when and that she took the time to show me how.
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