Nine Days – Day Six

I had forgotten the sachet that I hem-stitched and embroidered for my mother as a child. It was a surprise when it surfaced among the clutter in the sewing box at the end of her life. I suppose she prized it, as I still prize the things my own children made.

My Mother’s Book of Hours: Novena

VI

From chalk & talk in Needlecraft, off-cuts of fabric rustle out:

Triumphantly you hold aloft the soft velvet cord

Of a coat I sewed you for school plays;

And the Irish linen of a sachet for white handkerchiefs—

What on earth is that? you ask.

It is a thing I sewed for Mum, I say, in tiny, pin-prick hem-stitching,

The hankies folded, redolent of peachy face-powder

And other relics of a bygone age,

A bygone stage.

© Lizzie Ballagher

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