The Fabric of Our Lives

We were driving to Costco today, (Mike, Nick and I), to secure our Thanksgiving dinner.
Jordie wasn’t with us (again).
She’s 12 now and has much better things to do with her day.

Nick’s still easy.
He doesn’t even ask where we’re going until we’re half way there.
“Costco” I told him when he asked.
“Oh thank the Lord” he said.
“I thought we were going to the "Material" store again.
When you take me there Mom…It’s like you lost your love for me.”

I was immediately transformed back to my own childhood.
Being the youngest, Mom would take me to the fabric store while my sisters were in school.
I remember the pain; my legs could hardly hold me up.
I’d be leaning on a bolt of 100% Cotton flannel (she used to make our PJ's back then), just willing myself anywhere but there.

Later in life, the fabric store continued to haunt me.
When I was single and owned my first home,
I convinced my friend Suzie (Homemaker) to make my window treatments.
All I had to do was buy the fabric.
I’ll never forget the woman’s face when I ordered 6 yards of Muslims.

I don’t know when it happened…
But I love the fabric store now.
It offers so much opportunity.
It offers beauty and change.

Just last night I overheard Mike telling Nick that things he dislikes now as a kid,
He’ll very likely be fond of as an adult.
“Like kissing with tongues?” Nick asked.

Hmmm…that's probably more likely than the "Material" store.