Poem: "Clothes Worth Repairing"
Jan. 12th, 2023 09:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem was written outside the regular prompt calls. It was inspired by the "Opportunity" square in my 6-1-22 card for the Cottoncandy Bingo fest, and the "Hippie Food" square in my 6-1-22 card for the Food Fest Bingo. It has been sponsored by a pool with fuzzyred. It belongs to the Rutledge thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. It follows "The Unbearable Clarity of Lost Things" and "Clothes Worth Wearing," so you might want to read those first.
Warning: This poem is mostly fluff and comfort, but has a background of war trauma and poverty.
"Clothes Worth Repairing"
[Afternoon of Saturday, May 2, 2015]
Karimah felt grateful that Felicity had
offered to drive her and her daughter Afra
home to pick up clothes before they went to
the mending party at Emerald Mountain Glen.
"Oh hey, it's the Hungry Hungry Hippies
food truck," Felicity said happily, as she
turned the minivan into the parking lot
of Maple Park Apartments. "Do you
want to grab some lunch now?"
It was parked there, because
several Syrian families had moved
into the apartment building, and
the food truck's menu was
now mostly halal to attract
some new Muslim customers.
Karimah had heard that they
might have a food truck visiting
for that reason, but this was
the first time that she'd seen it.
"I want falafel," Afra said promptly,
pressing her nose to the window.
"Of course you may have falafel,"
Karimah said, thrilled that Afra
was asking for something again.
Maybe she'd finally get her daughter
back instead of the sad little wraith
haunting their home since the bombing.
"Perhaps some fruit or vegetables too?"
"There's a fruit cup and a veggie cup,"
said Felicity. "I'm getting hummus,
so we can split a veggie cup if you want."
"That would be lovely," said Karimah.
She missed the big family feasts
that they used to have at home.
"I'll have falafel too, please."
"No problem," said Felicity.
"What about beverages?"
"Fruit juices," said Karimah.
"We like all kinds, whatever
they have today is fine."
"Okay, go get your mending
and I'll get us all lunch while
you're doing that," said Felicity.
So Karimah hurried up to
her apartment with Afra in tow.
It was a small place, just a kitchen
and the living room in the middle,
master bedroom and bathroom on
one side with Afra's bedroom and
common bathroom on the other.
Quickly the two of them searched
through the clean clothes for
everything in need of mending.
There was Karimah's sweatshirt,
Afra's jeans, a small pile of socks
with holes in the soles, a white shirt
that had a stain between its buttons,
and a variety of other garments.
Karimah stuffed all of it into a bag,
then they went back downstairs.
They got back about the same time
that Felicity climbed into the minivan
with a fragrant bag from the food truck.
"They had a Family Platter so that's
what I got," she said. "Two fruit juices
and my kombucha, a carton of falafel,
a tub of garlic hummus, a veggie cup,
a fruit cup, three multigrain rolls,
and six date cookies for dessert."
"How much for our share
of all that?" Karimah asked.
"Don't worry about it, I got this."
Felicity waved a hand. "Next time
you can buy, or invite me over
for supper, or whatever."
So they divided the food, and
Karimah was happy to have it.
The falafel was crispy and seemed
to be baked rather than fried. It
went well with the garlic hummus.
The fruits and vegetables were
fresh, the bread rich and crusty.
Karimah had never tasted anything
quite like the date cookies, but she
loved dates and they were delicious.
The drive out to Emerald Mountain Glen
was beautiful, lush forests of maple and
evergreens dotted with small patches
of rolling fields and farmhouses.
As they traveled east, Felicity told
them of the commune and its history.
"It started in the early 1960s as
a hippie commune," she said.
"The founders bought a place near
Bucklin Trailhead which included
a 3-acre lot with an old farmhouse,
a large farm garage, and some fields."
"It sounds nice," said Karimah.
"I think so too," said Felicity.
"They converted the garage to
function space for the community and
its Community Supported Agriculture.
That's where we'll be crafting today."
"It will be good to have a space for
that," said Karimah. "Our apartment
is comfortable, but it's very small."
It fit the three of them, just barely,
but there was little room for
her sewing and none for
Mahir's woodworking.
"Well, the folks who lived
at Emerald Mountain Glen
ran out of room too," said Felicity.
"They built a solar farmhouse on
the far side of the lot. They turned
most of the yard into permaculture.
Later they built a cottage adjacent
to the old farmhouse as well."
"They must like having friends
and family close," said Karimah.
"We used to, and I miss that."
"Most intentional communities
like close contact," said Felicity.
"Over time, they have acquired
new land around the original core,
adding more space for homes and
agriculture. What we're passing
now belongs to the commune."
"It's beautiful," said Karimah,
and it was. So green, and
so full of life. "Don't they own
some businesses in town, too?"
"They do," said Felicity. "They
run the Peace Store, the Crash Pad,
Hippy Dippy Soup and Sandwich Bar,
the food truck, and a few other things.
They have more in the community,
like the crafts and the CSA farm."
She pulled into a small parking lot,
then ushered everyone outside.
"This way," she said. "The garage
is behind the greenhouse and gardens."
Karimah looked around. The parking lot
was surrounded by trees, through which
she could glimpse a tiny cottage and
a much larger house just behind it.
There were many different gardens
and a big glass greenhouse, which
had a notched border of plants
running all along the near side.
Afra tugged at her mother's hand.
"Gardens?" the little girl begged.
Karimah hated to say no, but
she had made commitments.
"We planned on crafting today,
not visiting gardens," she said.
"Perhaps a compromise?"
Felicity said. "They have
a small permaculture garden
beside the garage. We could
see one garden, then do crafts."
"Yes, please," said Karimah.
"I would like to see that too."
As they walked, something
odd plucked at her attention.
Then she realized it was laughter.
Laughter, spilling out through
open doors and trickling over
green hedges dotted with flowers.
Conversations trailed past, moving
into and through and out of hearing
as people walked along the paths.
Someone on one side was playing
a stringed instrument, and someone else
was singing on the other side, coming closer.
A group of children scampered past them,
chanting the rhyme to some sort of game.
Karimah finally figured out what had
made it all seem so unfamiliar to her.
It was the happiness. Everywhere
around her, the people were happy,
so happy that they were singing
and playing, even the adults.
She hadn't had that in so long
that she had almost forgotten it.
The memories made her ache.
They met Granny Patches,
Chenille, and Darner on the way.
"Before crafting, we want to see
the Urban Permaculture Demo,
if that's all right," Felicity said.
"Beautiful," said Granny Patches.
"I'm always happy to show it off.
I've been gardening since I was
a girl, and permaculture is great."
Karimah had no idea what that was,
but the garden was indeed beautiful.
It had rocky beds of herbs and
wooden beds overflowing with
both flowers and vegetables.
Squash, peas, and runner beans
climbed arching trellises. Cages
supported tomato plants, and
sunflowers towered overhead.
It looked like nothing Karimah
had seen before, but the wild riot
of plants seemed to be working.
There were tiny green tomatoes
on the vines, bees and butterflies
busy on the begonias and marigolds.
Granny Patches bent down and picked
a few marigolds. She stuck one in her hair,
handing the others to Chenille and Darner.
"Would anyone else like a flower to wear?"
Afra gave a shy nod. "Yes, please."
Granny Patches picked a marigold
for her. "Here you go," she said.
"These stand for your inner light,
and also for those we've lost."
"Thank you," Afra said as she
tucked the flower behind her ear.
"Everything is so busy and alive,"
said Karimah. "It's just beautiful."
"Why's it so messy?" Afra said. "It's
pretty, but it's all ..." She waved her hands.
"Is a forest messy? Is a meadow messy?"
said Granny Patches. "This garden looks
this way because this is how plants like
to grow, leaning on each other, not alone.
It makes them happier and healthier."
Looking at the jumble of plants,
Karimah would well believe it.
"It helps when you know what
different plants like," said Chenille.
"When we plant things that grow
well together, that's called a guild or
a polyculture. For instance, the beans
make extra food for the other plants in
their bed, whose bigger flowers help
attract more pollinators for the beans."
"I like it because it makes harvesting
like a treasure hunt," said Darner.
Felicity nodded. "Shopping at
the farm store or picking up a box
from the CSA is similar. You never
know what you're going to find
each day, but they're always
good surprises in the end."
"That sounds like something
I would enjoy," said Karimah.
She missed the bustling markets
of Darayya. American stores
seemed cold and lifeless in
comparison to the vibrant past.
"So come inside and see our
CSA market," said Chenille.
"People can get a basket
delivered at a higher price,
or come here to pick up
their own share cheaper."
"Extra stuff gets put out
for sale, too," said Darner.
"It's several weeks into
the spring season, so
there should be surplus."
"Then I'm getting some,"
Felicity said. "My kids eat
spring greens like rabbits,
I can't keep the fridge full."
The retrofit garage was
a big wooden building with
the CSA distribution and
seedling sales up front.
Felicity was already tossing
bunches of greens in a basket.
Darner pointed to chalkboards
that listed options for CSA members
who wanted to choose their own items
rather than just grab a standard basket.
"Some people like surprises, while
others like more choice," she said.
Granny Patches picked up a basket
and offered it to Karimah. "Here,
have a free sample of our produce
and see what you think of it."
"That is enough food for
my whole family to have
fresh vegetables at least
once a day for a week,"
Karimah said, staring.
Radishes, turnips, and
beets all had the tops on
so those were two in one.
There were multiple bunches
of other greens, only some of
which she recognized and all
of which she wanted to try.
Maybe she could find a recipe
for those "green bowl" things
some of the restaurants had,
and see if they were really
any different than salads.
There was even a cluster
of rhubarb stalks. She could
make lamb and rhubarb stew!
"That's the idea," said Chenille.
"A Family Share should feed
four omnivores or two herbivores
for a week. We have Couple
and Solo shares too, though."
"Can you afford to give away
so much?" said Karimah.
"Yes, but if you want to fill out
a form, Refugee Services
will probably cover the cost,"
Granny Patches offered.
"Yes, please, let's do that,"
said Karimah. She understood
zakat, but they weren't destitute.
Not quite ... not anymore.
She filled out the form,
then wrote her name on
a paper tag as Felicity did
the same for her purchases.
"By the way, what is this thing?"
Karimah pointed to a bundle
of thick white stalks with
leafy tops of creamy green.
"Oh, that's bok choy,"
said Felicity. "I love it.
You can put it in salad,
stir-fry it, or throw it into
a crock pot with other stuff."
Well, that sounded promising.
Karimah loved vegetables that
could be prepared many ways.
There were several little clumps
in the bundle, so she could try
multiple new recipes with them.
"I wonder if bok choy would
work in lamb and rhubarb stew,"
Karimah mused, looking over
the big basket of produce.
Instantly she became
the center of attention
as all of the women
turned to stare at her.
"You can put rhubarb
in stew?" Felicity said at
the same time Darner said,
"You have a savory recipe
for cooking with rhubarb?"
Granny Patches was
even more direct. "Give
me that recipe to print in
our CSA newsletter and
you just paid for that basket."
"All right," Karimah said,
and wrote out the recipe
from memory. "Lamb isn't
easy to get here, but it
works just as well with
goat, and okay with beef."
"Thank you so much for this,"
said Granny Patches. "We can
always, always use new recipes
for our CSA produce. Folks love
fresh food, but nothing sells it like
a new recipe for an old favorite."
"I wonder what other recipes
she knows," Chenille murmured.
"Well, she's taking home a share,
so maybe next week we'll find out,"
Granny Patches said with a wink.
"I can do that," said Karimah.
She really was looking forward
to getting into the kitchen and
exploring her new goodies.
Chenille set the baskets
in a reserved area so that
they could pick those up
on their way back out.
A squabble broke out
among several teenagers.
Karimah backed away, pulling
Afra behind her, watching
for the inevitable fistfight.
It never happened.
"Peace out, you wild things,"
Granny Patches admonished.
"When you have calmed
your spirits, then it will be
easier to find a solution."
The teenagers nodded,
then formed a circle and
began ... humming? singing?
But if it was a song, it seemed
to have only one word in it.
It was very strange, but
whatever it was, it had
stopped the argument
quickly and effectively.
Karimah was all in favor of
anything that could do that.
Felicity pointed to clusters
of tables and chairs toward
the back and the right side of
the cavernous garage building.
"That's where we usually gather
for crafts. Sometimes we sit
on the screen porch," she said.
"Down here there's more room
than upstairs, but that's where
the tools and supplies are."
"Six of us will fit upstairs,"
Granny Patches replied.
She led them all over
to a narrow staircase.
The wooden stairs let out
into a small nook crammed
with craft supplies of all kinds.
Rows of ribbon, jars of buttons,
and shelves of books covered
the walls all around the little room.
"This is the supply room, well, one of
them," said Granny Patches. "Moving
along, we have the yarn and sewing room."
Yarn and fabric were stacked to the ceiling,
along with jars and boxes of various tools.
The far end of the room, at the front of
the garage, held several tables pushed
together into a T-shaped work area
underneath the one big window.
There must have been at least
twenty sewing machines on
the tables and the shelves,
ranging from usable antiques
to modern electronic ones.
"Afra, what would you like
to do while we mend clothes?"
Karimah asked her daughter.
Afra just stared at everything.
"Would you rather play with yarn
or look at some craft books?"
Felicity said. "Start with one,
but you can switch later."
"Books?" Afra said,
looking more focused.
"Right here," said Felicity.
"You can look at the books
and still see Mommy working."
Afra plopped onto the floor
beside the bookcase. Most
of the craft books were older
than her. Some of them were
probably older than Karimah.
A couple of tablet computers
offered access to online patterns,
though, to cover modern options.
After a moment, Afra pulled
the first book into her lap and
began looking at the pictures.
"Thank you," Karimah murmured.
"Sometimes she gets ... stuck."
"Small children often feel
overwhelmed by too many
choices," said Felicity. "It's
worse for those who have
survived rough experiences."
"I wish I knew what to do,"
said Karimah. "People have
suggested play therapy, but
she doesn't play anymore."
Afra hadn't really played
since all her siblings died.
The long healing time
from her own injuries
hadn't helped either.
"Give Afra opportunities
to play and explore if she
wants to, but don't force her,"
Felicity suggested. "Offering
a rich environment encourages
children to engage, but they can
get overstimulated too. Then it
helps to narrow choices to two."
"Thank you," said Karimah.
"I look at this place and I
want to do everything, but
I don't know where to start!"
"We start with the sorting,"
said Granny Patches. "First,
set aside any items that you
already have specific plans for.
That's all your clothes, Karimah,
and some of the salvage stuff."
"I'll get the rag bags," Darner said,
and started hauling them out.
Meanwhile Chenille cleared
a whole table and said, "Put
your mending over here."
They set aside all the things
they already planned to fix.
Then they went through
the stuff in the salvage box.
More precisely, Karimah
took out items that she was
sure she could fix somehow.
She strongly suspected that
she would have condemned
some things to the rag bag
that the other women would
have ideas on how to repair.
She just wasn't sure how
they were deciding their piles.
Eventually she gave up and asked.
"Check for the fabric quality,"
said Granny Patches. "Pull at
the edge of a tear. If the fabric
is soft and rips easily, it goes in
the rag pile. If it's sturdy, then it has
more potential. Even if it's chewed
to scraps, you can quilt scraps."
"Also, anything natural has
more uses than synthetics,"
Chenille added. "Wool is
almost always valuable."
Well, that made sense.
Wool could last for years;
cheap polyester would
fall apart in months.
Once they had the box
sorted into things to fix
and everything else,
Darner said, "Now we
break down the discards."
This turned out to be
much more involved than
Karimah's habit of saving
buttons or bits of denim
to cut up for patches.
"The best fabric that's in
pieces goes for patchwork,"
said Granny Patches. "Just
trim off any ruined parts and
remove seams or findings."
"Buttons, zippers, and
other findings all have
their own containers,"
said Darner. "We group
embellishments loosely
by categories like lace,
embroidery, or patches."
As she spoke, she used
a seam ripper to strip off
a length of lace from the hem
of a badly stained white skirt.
"When you cut off seams,
don't throw them away,"
said Chenille. "They make
great rugs, mops, and
other things that benefit
from tough strips of cloth."
Instantly Karimah wanted
a mop made of seams. She
could see how sewn seams
would last longer than rope
or torn strips of fabric.
These women were
just so inspiring.
"Things that aren't
good enough to use in
patchwork can be cut down
to squares for cleaning rags
or strips for torch wicks,"
said Granny Patches.
"Socks work for dusting
if you slip them on over
your hands, so they can go
whole in the cleaning rags,"
Chenille added. "Convenient."
"Torch wicks have to get
separated into natural and
synthetic cloth," said Darner.
"Synthetics melt as they burn,
which is really pretty, but you
need something to catch drips."
They worked as they talked,
fingers flying to break down
old clothes into usable pieces.
With four women working
together, it went pretty fast.
They pushed buttons into piles,
stuffed zippers into a box, and
sliced off embroidery or beadwork
to save as future embellishments.
Even snips and scraps too small
to sew, stray threads, and fabric
too worn even for cleaning rags
were swept up for stuffing.
Karimah was falling in love
with this odd little community.
They used everything,
they wasted nothing,
and she loved it.
She said as much.
Granny Patches nodded,
then pointed to an old sampler
that hung on a nearby wall.
Embroidered words
in a poem read,
Eat it all,
Use it up,
Wear it out.
Make it do,
Or do without.
"I made that when I
was just a little girl,"
she said. "It stuck
with me when I had
a baby of my own
and not much money.
We may live better now,
but we're still frugal here."
Karimah gave a happy sigh.
"That's good to hear," she said.
Afra came up to the table,
carrying a craft book that
she spread on the top.
"Can I make yarn pictures?"
she asked her mother.
"I don't know," said Karimah.
"I've never seen anything
like those yarn pictures."
Felicity glanced at the book.
"There's an easier way than
glue for little fingers," she said.
"Darner, do we have contact paper,
sticky board, anything like that?"
"Yeah, there's a whole drawer
of adhesive supplies," said Darner.
"I'll get that and some scrap yarn."
She trotted off, and soon returned
with a square of cardboard and
a muslin bag straining at the seams
with odds and ends of old yarn.
"First, we peel off the backing
to expose the sticky stuff,"
said Felicity. "You can go
two ways next. Lay down
one strand of yarn at a time
to make a picture, or pile
on yarn by the handful
to make a big squiggle."
Afra pulled out a bunch
of yarn to sort it by color,
then began pressing bits
carefully against the board.
"Okay, we've got everything
sorted," said Granny Patches.
"Now we can start mending."
She picked up the flannel shirt.
"You can see where this has
been mended before," she said.
The elbows had been patched
and repatched. One cuff had
a lighter-colored button on it.
"I'll get the leather scraps,"
Darner said, bounding away.
She came back lugging a tub
that opened to reveal bits of
leather in all different colors.
Granny Patches picked out
some sandy-colored leather
to make elbow patches.
"Let's look in this box of
embroidered patches,"
Darner said to Karimah.
"I want one for my hat,
and you might find some
to fix your sweatshirt."
"All right," Karimah said,
though she wasn't sure
exactly what to look for.
Darner soon had a row
of possible patches
lined up in front of
herself for the hat.
From time to time,
she pushed a patch
toward Karimah instead.
There was a purple flower
that should cover the hole.
Then Darner chirped happily.
"Look, this is perfect!" she said,
holding out a patch that spelled
LOVE in purple sequined letters.
It even went with the flower.
"I'll show you on my hat first,"
said Darner. "I'm going
to sew up the hole in front."
That didn't take long, since
it wasn't all that big and didn't
need to be tidy under a patch.
"The fabric is so coarse, it
hardly shows," said Karimah.
"Yeah, it's baja cloth," said Darner.
"Now I'll sew the patch over it."
She chose a rainbow lightning bolt
to reflect bright threads in the weave.
"I think I'll run the brim through
a sewing machine so it doesn't
keep fraying forever," Darner said,
running her fingers through the fringe.
She took the hat to another part
of the work area, and soon
a sewing machine whirred.
Karimah spread her sweatshirt
on the table and laid the patches
over it. How hard could this be?
She had no trouble covering
the big hole with the flower,
but the sprinkling of stains
was harder to cover up.
The only way to get all
of them under the patch
was to tilt it at an angle.
"Oh, that looks great,"
said Felicity. "You should
sew it down just like that."
Karimah stepped back a bit.
The sweatshirt looked odd,
but not bad, with the patches
laid out in that manner.
Karimah sewed them on,
then held up the sweatshirt.
"What do you think?" she said.
"Yeah, I think it looks good,"
Chenille said. "Well done."
Next Karimah picked up
Afra's ripped jeans, and
looked over at her daughter.
Afra was reading a book again.
"Did you finish your yarn picture?"
Karimah asked, and Afra nodded.
"Then please come help me
with your jeans," said Karimah.
Darner came back with her hat,
which now had several rows of
stitching around the wide brim.
"Afra wanted flowers, right?"
said Darner. "Let's look in
the embellishment stashes."
She pulled out several pockets
with decorative stitching, a rosebud
stamped on fabric, and swatches
of heavy white cloth covered in
yellow embroidered flowers.
"Do you like any of these?"
Karimah asked Afra.
The little girl reached out
for the bright yellow flowers.
"That'll sure pop out against
the blue denim," said Darner.
"I could show you how to make
a backside patch with a border of
colored thread," said Granny Patches.
"Most kids love that kind of patchwork."
"Yes, please," said Karimah. "This is
so different than the repairs that I
usually do, but it's beautiful."
So Granny Patches helped her
cut out sections of white cloth
to pin behind the knee holes.
Darner found some thread
that variegated in shades of
yellow and white to sew around
the edges to create the border.
"See, now you can wear a top
that's orange, yellow, green, white,
or blue -- or any combination of
those colors -- and it'll look good
with these jeans," said Darner.
Afra was very nearly smiling
as she held up her fixed jeans.
"Thank you very much," she said.
"Oh, this thing!" Chenille exclaimed
as one of her afghans disgorged
a round ball of multicolored fluff.
"Mouse!" Afra squeaked, backing off.
Granny Patches stomped the ball
with her heavy gardening boot, thud!
Then she poked the flattened wad
with her toe. "Nope, nobody home,"
she declared. "I'll just put this
into the rag bag for stuffing."
Chenille held up the afghan
and frowned at the gaping holes.
"Can anyone help me clean up
the edges before I try to repair
this mess?" she asked them.
"Clean up how?" said Karimah.
"I'm not sure how to fix that."
"I can fix it, this will just go
faster if I have more hands
to pick out the damaged bits,"
said Chenille. "Simply unravel
anything frayed until you get
back to the intact yarn again."
"All right, that I can do,"
said Karimah. She moved
to where she could reach
part of the damaged afghan.
"Can I help?" Afra said.
"I finished my yarn picture."
"Well, this is kind of a fiddly job,"
said Felicity. "Do you like buttons?"
Afra nodded, leaning forward. "We
have -- had a jar of them at home."
That was now lost, along with
everything else in their apartment.
Nothing had survived the bombing.
"Then come here, we haven't had
time to sort these yet," Felicity said,
pointing out the pile of loose buttons.
"I'll get the button jars," Darner said,
heading back to the supply room.
"See how there are different kinds?"
Felicity said. "They get sorted by type,
based on how folks typically use them."
Darner came back with the button jars.
"These are for business shirt buttons,
colored buttons, fancy buttons, and
shank buttons. This last one has
matching buttons," she said. "I think
that should cover today's batch."
"Afra, if you find sets of buttons
that go together, pass them to me
and I'll string them so they don't
get separated," said Felicity.
With Afra happily sorting
buttons, Karimah could
focus on the afghan again.
Soon several people had it
spread over the tables and
their laps, picking loose
the fraying bits of yarn.
It was tedious work,
picking away at knots
and tangles with a pair
of tiny sharp scissors, but
Karimah still had a good eye
for such challenging tasks.
The women chattered as
they worked, and although
the details were foreign,
the tone was familiar as
they snipped and pulled.
The holes left behind were
alarmingly large, but Karimah
could see how the afghan was
made from concentric squares.
All Chenille would need to do
was recreate new squares and
then attach them at the edges.
She gathered up small balls
of yarn and began making
the squares for repairs.
Darner finished sweeping up
the tag ends of damaged yarn,
which could be used as stuffing.
"We're done sorting buttons,"
Felicity said, holding up a jar.
"Thank you for helping, Afra,"
said Karimah. "Would you
rather fold patchwork scraps
or find another book to read?"
"Book," Afra decided, and
went back to the craft shelf.
Felicity laid out her blue sweater
with its torn elbows and stained front.
"Do you want to watch how I make
knit-in-place repairs?" Felicity said.
"Yes, please," said Karimah.
"I want to patch up the hat
that I picked up for Mahir."
"First, we need to clean up
the holes, just like the afghan,
so that we have strong yarn
to work with," said Felicity.
They each took a sleeve,
and that task went quickly.
"Now I'll need some wool yarn
in different colors," said Felicity.
She went to the yarn room
and came back with a tub that
held small balls and skeins.
Sorting through the options,
she draped several of them
over the bright blue sweater.
"It's rare to find an exact match,
so I'm searching for different colors
from the stash that will look good
against the original," said Felicity.
She had dark green, turquoise,
goldenrod yellow, and a few shades
of pale to medium pink laid out.
"Turquoise?" Karimah said,
touching the skein. "It looks
like the sky. You could use
the others to make flowers."
"Great idea," said Felicity.
"Next, put a darning block
behind the hole, so you
don't stitch the patch to
the back side of the item."
Hers was sleek maple,
and it reminded Karimah
of the one she had lost.
Maybe she should
look for a replacement.
She hadn't had the heart,
earlier, but now that she
knew it could be used to fix
knitting as well as fabric,
maybe it was about time.
"To start making the patch, we
identify the closest intact row
of stitches below the hole,"
Felicity said, pointing to it.
Carefully she traced the hole
on one sleeve, then shifted
toward the cuff until she
found the intact row.
"Then we just gather up
the intact row of stitches on
a short double-pointed needle,
and start knitting," said Felicity.
"I think I can do that. Well,
maybe, with a little practice,"
said Karimah. "It doesn't
look too much harder than
the usual kind of knitting."
"Here I'm working in new yarn
so it attaches to the old yarn,"
Felicity said. "Pay attention
to how the edges join up,
connecting the new yarn
to the old at the beginning
and end of each row."
"That looks trickier,"
Karimah confessed.
"Whatever happens,
remember, it's just yarn!"
said Felicity. "If worst
comes to worst, simply
rip it out and try again."
Karimah chuckled. "It
wouldn't be the first time."
"Now I've knit enough
to fill in the empty part,"
said Felicity. "The top
closes like this, attaching
the new yarn to the old
where there's a whole row."
"So that's just like the bottom,
only in reverse," said Karimah.
"Pretty much," said Felicity. "Do
you want to try fixing the hat now?"
"Yes," Karimah said. "It can't
be that difficult to manage."
It was harder than it looked.
Felicity went back to her own work,
embroidering flowers over the patch
of turquoise on the sweater sleeve.
Karimah struggled with the yarn
that she'd chosen for the patch.
She had found some ivory that
matched the stripes on the hat,
probably because so many sheep
gave ivory wool, but the new patch
came out all lumpy and awkward.
"It looks like a sheep," said Afra.
"See how the legs go down?"
The 'legs' went down because
Karimah couldn't keep the bottom
of the patch in a straight line.
"It's just a hat," said Felicity.
"As long as it's whole, it should
keep the cold out. Do you want
to keep it as is, or rip it out
and try another round?"
"I can do better than this,"
Karimah said as she unraveled
what she had just knitted up.
She thought about what
Afra had said, though.
It had kind of looked
like a sheep. Karimah
wondered if she could
play with that a little.
She dug back into
the yarn stash and
found several balls
of much darker wool.
There was one similar
to the grayish-brown
on the original hat.
Very carefully, she
reknitted the patch,
this time including
a dark sheep face.
It was still lumpy,
but now it looked like
it was meant to be.
Maybe the sheep hat
would make Mahir smile.
"It's cute," said Afra.
"Daddy will like it."
Then she ducked
under a table, and
emerged with hands
full of buttons and
a stray ball of yarn.
"That was thoughtful
of you," said Karimah.
"Thank you for helping
us keep the room tidy."
Felicity had made
good progress on
mending her sweater,
but she set it aside
to help Afra put away
the buttons and yarn.
"You know, these are
very popular craft items
at A Kinder Garden where
I work," said Felicity. "I
wonder if you'd like it there."
"You said you were a teacher,"
Karimah recalled. "What's it like?"
"My school focuses on teaching
personal growth and social skills
through nature, rather than pushing
young children into academic work
too soon," said Felicity. "It makes
a good place for children with
a challenging past, because we
let them be themselves and help
them find constructive coping skills."
"It sounds nice, but it must be
very expensive," said Karimah.
"No, we try to keep costs down,"
said Felicity. "There are scholarships
and work-trade options for families.
Besides, Refugee Services has
funds for education if needed."
Karimah thought about that.
She wanted Afra to get better,
but so far few of the suggestions
had seemed helpful, and she
didn't want to overwhelm the girl
with a regular preschool when
Afra wasn't even playing at home.
Today was the most interest
that Afra had shown in anything
since the bombing mangled
their family, and Karimah
wanted to encourage it.
"Perhaps you could give us
more information about
the school," said Karimah,
snatching the opportunity.
"I could discuss it with
my husband, and later
all three of us could visit."
"Yes, of course," said Felicity.
"I can get you some handouts."
"Save that for tomorrow,"
Granny Patches suggested.
"It's almost supper time. Start
looking for a place to stop if
you're still mending. Karimah,
would you like to eat with us?"
"I would, but do you have
halal food?" said Karimah.
Granny Patches grinned.
"We have hippie food, which
is mostly fruits and vegetables.
I don't know if we have any meat
that would suit, but produce is
generally permissible, right?"
"As long as it hasn't touched
anything haram, yes it is,"
said Karimah. "We'll stay."
She was already looking
forward to the meal.
Making new friends
wasn't easy after all she'd
come through, but Karimah
had a good feeling about
these people now.
Maybe this would
help mend more
than just clothes.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its setting and content notes appear separately.
fuzzyred. It belongs to the Rutledge thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. It follows "The Unbearable Clarity of Lost Things" and "Clothes Worth Wearing," so you might want to read those first.Warning: This poem is mostly fluff and comfort, but has a background of war trauma and poverty.
"Clothes Worth Repairing"
[Afternoon of Saturday, May 2, 2015]
Karimah felt grateful that Felicity had
offered to drive her and her daughter Afra
home to pick up clothes before they went to
the mending party at Emerald Mountain Glen.
"Oh hey, it's the Hungry Hungry Hippies
food truck," Felicity said happily, as she
turned the minivan into the parking lot
of Maple Park Apartments. "Do you
want to grab some lunch now?"
It was parked there, because
several Syrian families had moved
into the apartment building, and
the food truck's menu was
now mostly halal to attract
some new Muslim customers.
Karimah had heard that they
might have a food truck visiting
for that reason, but this was
the first time that she'd seen it.
"I want falafel," Afra said promptly,
pressing her nose to the window.
"Of course you may have falafel,"
Karimah said, thrilled that Afra
was asking for something again.
Maybe she'd finally get her daughter
back instead of the sad little wraith
haunting their home since the bombing.
"Perhaps some fruit or vegetables too?"
"There's a fruit cup and a veggie cup,"
said Felicity. "I'm getting hummus,
so we can split a veggie cup if you want."
"That would be lovely," said Karimah.
She missed the big family feasts
that they used to have at home.
"I'll have falafel too, please."
"No problem," said Felicity.
"What about beverages?"
"Fruit juices," said Karimah.
"We like all kinds, whatever
they have today is fine."
"Okay, go get your mending
and I'll get us all lunch while
you're doing that," said Felicity.
So Karimah hurried up to
her apartment with Afra in tow.
It was a small place, just a kitchen
and the living room in the middle,
master bedroom and bathroom on
one side with Afra's bedroom and
common bathroom on the other.
Quickly the two of them searched
through the clean clothes for
everything in need of mending.
There was Karimah's sweatshirt,
Afra's jeans, a small pile of socks
with holes in the soles, a white shirt
that had a stain between its buttons,
and a variety of other garments.
Karimah stuffed all of it into a bag,
then they went back downstairs.
They got back about the same time
that Felicity climbed into the minivan
with a fragrant bag from the food truck.
"They had a Family Platter so that's
what I got," she said. "Two fruit juices
and my kombucha, a carton of falafel,
a tub of garlic hummus, a veggie cup,
a fruit cup, three multigrain rolls,
and six date cookies for dessert."
"How much for our share
of all that?" Karimah asked.
"Don't worry about it, I got this."
Felicity waved a hand. "Next time
you can buy, or invite me over
for supper, or whatever."
So they divided the food, and
Karimah was happy to have it.
The falafel was crispy and seemed
to be baked rather than fried. It
went well with the garlic hummus.
The fruits and vegetables were
fresh, the bread rich and crusty.
Karimah had never tasted anything
quite like the date cookies, but she
loved dates and they were delicious.
The drive out to Emerald Mountain Glen
was beautiful, lush forests of maple and
evergreens dotted with small patches
of rolling fields and farmhouses.
As they traveled east, Felicity told
them of the commune and its history.
"It started in the early 1960s as
a hippie commune," she said.
"The founders bought a place near
Bucklin Trailhead which included
a 3-acre lot with an old farmhouse,
a large farm garage, and some fields."
"It sounds nice," said Karimah.
"I think so too," said Felicity.
"They converted the garage to
function space for the community and
its Community Supported Agriculture.
That's where we'll be crafting today."
"It will be good to have a space for
that," said Karimah. "Our apartment
is comfortable, but it's very small."
It fit the three of them, just barely,
but there was little room for
her sewing and none for
Mahir's woodworking.
"Well, the folks who lived
at Emerald Mountain Glen
ran out of room too," said Felicity.
"They built a solar farmhouse on
the far side of the lot. They turned
most of the yard into permaculture.
Later they built a cottage adjacent
to the old farmhouse as well."
"They must like having friends
and family close," said Karimah.
"We used to, and I miss that."
"Most intentional communities
like close contact," said Felicity.
"Over time, they have acquired
new land around the original core,
adding more space for homes and
agriculture. What we're passing
now belongs to the commune."
"It's beautiful," said Karimah,
and it was. So green, and
so full of life. "Don't they own
some businesses in town, too?"
"They do," said Felicity. "They
run the Peace Store, the Crash Pad,
Hippy Dippy Soup and Sandwich Bar,
the food truck, and a few other things.
They have more in the community,
like the crafts and the CSA farm."
She pulled into a small parking lot,
then ushered everyone outside.
"This way," she said. "The garage
is behind the greenhouse and gardens."
Karimah looked around. The parking lot
was surrounded by trees, through which
she could glimpse a tiny cottage and
a much larger house just behind it.
There were many different gardens
and a big glass greenhouse, which
had a notched border of plants
running all along the near side.
Afra tugged at her mother's hand.
"Gardens?" the little girl begged.
Karimah hated to say no, but
she had made commitments.
"We planned on crafting today,
not visiting gardens," she said.
"Perhaps a compromise?"
Felicity said. "They have
a small permaculture garden
beside the garage. We could
see one garden, then do crafts."
"Yes, please," said Karimah.
"I would like to see that too."
As they walked, something
odd plucked at her attention.
Then she realized it was laughter.
Laughter, spilling out through
open doors and trickling over
green hedges dotted with flowers.
Conversations trailed past, moving
into and through and out of hearing
as people walked along the paths.
Someone on one side was playing
a stringed instrument, and someone else
was singing on the other side, coming closer.
A group of children scampered past them,
chanting the rhyme to some sort of game.
Karimah finally figured out what had
made it all seem so unfamiliar to her.
It was the happiness. Everywhere
around her, the people were happy,
so happy that they were singing
and playing, even the adults.
She hadn't had that in so long
that she had almost forgotten it.
The memories made her ache.
They met Granny Patches,
Chenille, and Darner on the way.
"Before crafting, we want to see
the Urban Permaculture Demo,
if that's all right," Felicity said.
"Beautiful," said Granny Patches.
"I'm always happy to show it off.
I've been gardening since I was
a girl, and permaculture is great."
Karimah had no idea what that was,
but the garden was indeed beautiful.
It had rocky beds of herbs and
wooden beds overflowing with
both flowers and vegetables.
Squash, peas, and runner beans
climbed arching trellises. Cages
supported tomato plants, and
sunflowers towered overhead.
It looked like nothing Karimah
had seen before, but the wild riot
of plants seemed to be working.
There were tiny green tomatoes
on the vines, bees and butterflies
busy on the begonias and marigolds.
Granny Patches bent down and picked
a few marigolds. She stuck one in her hair,
handing the others to Chenille and Darner.
"Would anyone else like a flower to wear?"
Afra gave a shy nod. "Yes, please."
Granny Patches picked a marigold
for her. "Here you go," she said.
"These stand for your inner light,
and also for those we've lost."
"Thank you," Afra said as she
tucked the flower behind her ear.
"Everything is so busy and alive,"
said Karimah. "It's just beautiful."
"Why's it so messy?" Afra said. "It's
pretty, but it's all ..." She waved her hands.
"Is a forest messy? Is a meadow messy?"
said Granny Patches. "This garden looks
this way because this is how plants like
to grow, leaning on each other, not alone.
It makes them happier and healthier."
Looking at the jumble of plants,
Karimah would well believe it.
"It helps when you know what
different plants like," said Chenille.
"When we plant things that grow
well together, that's called a guild or
a polyculture. For instance, the beans
make extra food for the other plants in
their bed, whose bigger flowers help
attract more pollinators for the beans."
"I like it because it makes harvesting
like a treasure hunt," said Darner.
Felicity nodded. "Shopping at
the farm store or picking up a box
from the CSA is similar. You never
know what you're going to find
each day, but they're always
good surprises in the end."
"That sounds like something
I would enjoy," said Karimah.
She missed the bustling markets
of Darayya. American stores
seemed cold and lifeless in
comparison to the vibrant past.
"So come inside and see our
CSA market," said Chenille.
"People can get a basket
delivered at a higher price,
or come here to pick up
their own share cheaper."
"Extra stuff gets put out
for sale, too," said Darner.
"It's several weeks into
the spring season, so
there should be surplus."
"Then I'm getting some,"
Felicity said. "My kids eat
spring greens like rabbits,
I can't keep the fridge full."
The retrofit garage was
a big wooden building with
the CSA distribution and
seedling sales up front.
Felicity was already tossing
bunches of greens in a basket.
Darner pointed to chalkboards
that listed options for CSA members
who wanted to choose their own items
rather than just grab a standard basket.
"Some people like surprises, while
others like more choice," she said.
Granny Patches picked up a basket
and offered it to Karimah. "Here,
have a free sample of our produce
and see what you think of it."
"That is enough food for
my whole family to have
fresh vegetables at least
once a day for a week,"
Karimah said, staring.
Radishes, turnips, and
beets all had the tops on
so those were two in one.
There were multiple bunches
of other greens, only some of
which she recognized and all
of which she wanted to try.
Maybe she could find a recipe
for those "green bowl" things
some of the restaurants had,
and see if they were really
any different than salads.
There was even a cluster
of rhubarb stalks. She could
make lamb and rhubarb stew!
"That's the idea," said Chenille.
"A Family Share should feed
four omnivores or two herbivores
for a week. We have Couple
and Solo shares too, though."
"Can you afford to give away
so much?" said Karimah.
"Yes, but if you want to fill out
a form, Refugee Services
will probably cover the cost,"
Granny Patches offered.
"Yes, please, let's do that,"
said Karimah. She understood
zakat, but they weren't destitute.
Not quite ... not anymore.
She filled out the form,
then wrote her name on
a paper tag as Felicity did
the same for her purchases.
"By the way, what is this thing?"
Karimah pointed to a bundle
of thick white stalks with
leafy tops of creamy green.
"Oh, that's bok choy,"
said Felicity. "I love it.
You can put it in salad,
stir-fry it, or throw it into
a crock pot with other stuff."
Well, that sounded promising.
Karimah loved vegetables that
could be prepared many ways.
There were several little clumps
in the bundle, so she could try
multiple new recipes with them.
"I wonder if bok choy would
work in lamb and rhubarb stew,"
Karimah mused, looking over
the big basket of produce.
Instantly she became
the center of attention
as all of the women
turned to stare at her.
"You can put rhubarb
in stew?" Felicity said at
the same time Darner said,
"You have a savory recipe
for cooking with rhubarb?"
Granny Patches was
even more direct. "Give
me that recipe to print in
our CSA newsletter and
you just paid for that basket."
"All right," Karimah said,
and wrote out the recipe
from memory. "Lamb isn't
easy to get here, but it
works just as well with
goat, and okay with beef."
"Thank you so much for this,"
said Granny Patches. "We can
always, always use new recipes
for our CSA produce. Folks love
fresh food, but nothing sells it like
a new recipe for an old favorite."
"I wonder what other recipes
she knows," Chenille murmured.
"Well, she's taking home a share,
so maybe next week we'll find out,"
Granny Patches said with a wink.
"I can do that," said Karimah.
She really was looking forward
to getting into the kitchen and
exploring her new goodies.
Chenille set the baskets
in a reserved area so that
they could pick those up
on their way back out.
A squabble broke out
among several teenagers.
Karimah backed away, pulling
Afra behind her, watching
for the inevitable fistfight.
It never happened.
"Peace out, you wild things,"
Granny Patches admonished.
"When you have calmed
your spirits, then it will be
easier to find a solution."
The teenagers nodded,
then formed a circle and
began ... humming? singing?
But if it was a song, it seemed
to have only one word in it.
It was very strange, but
whatever it was, it had
stopped the argument
quickly and effectively.
Karimah was all in favor of
anything that could do that.
Felicity pointed to clusters
of tables and chairs toward
the back and the right side of
the cavernous garage building.
"That's where we usually gather
for crafts. Sometimes we sit
on the screen porch," she said.
"Down here there's more room
than upstairs, but that's where
the tools and supplies are."
"Six of us will fit upstairs,"
Granny Patches replied.
She led them all over
to a narrow staircase.
The wooden stairs let out
into a small nook crammed
with craft supplies of all kinds.
Rows of ribbon, jars of buttons,
and shelves of books covered
the walls all around the little room.
"This is the supply room, well, one of
them," said Granny Patches. "Moving
along, we have the yarn and sewing room."
Yarn and fabric were stacked to the ceiling,
along with jars and boxes of various tools.
The far end of the room, at the front of
the garage, held several tables pushed
together into a T-shaped work area
underneath the one big window.
There must have been at least
twenty sewing machines on
the tables and the shelves,
ranging from usable antiques
to modern electronic ones.
"Afra, what would you like
to do while we mend clothes?"
Karimah asked her daughter.
Afra just stared at everything.
"Would you rather play with yarn
or look at some craft books?"
Felicity said. "Start with one,
but you can switch later."
"Books?" Afra said,
looking more focused.
"Right here," said Felicity.
"You can look at the books
and still see Mommy working."
Afra plopped onto the floor
beside the bookcase. Most
of the craft books were older
than her. Some of them were
probably older than Karimah.
A couple of tablet computers
offered access to online patterns,
though, to cover modern options.
After a moment, Afra pulled
the first book into her lap and
began looking at the pictures.
"Thank you," Karimah murmured.
"Sometimes she gets ... stuck."
"Small children often feel
overwhelmed by too many
choices," said Felicity. "It's
worse for those who have
survived rough experiences."
"I wish I knew what to do,"
said Karimah. "People have
suggested play therapy, but
she doesn't play anymore."
Afra hadn't really played
since all her siblings died.
The long healing time
from her own injuries
hadn't helped either.
"Give Afra opportunities
to play and explore if she
wants to, but don't force her,"
Felicity suggested. "Offering
a rich environment encourages
children to engage, but they can
get overstimulated too. Then it
helps to narrow choices to two."
"Thank you," said Karimah.
"I look at this place and I
want to do everything, but
I don't know where to start!"
"We start with the sorting,"
said Granny Patches. "First,
set aside any items that you
already have specific plans for.
That's all your clothes, Karimah,
and some of the salvage stuff."
"I'll get the rag bags," Darner said,
and started hauling them out.
Meanwhile Chenille cleared
a whole table and said, "Put
your mending over here."
They set aside all the things
they already planned to fix.
Then they went through
the stuff in the salvage box.
More precisely, Karimah
took out items that she was
sure she could fix somehow.
She strongly suspected that
she would have condemned
some things to the rag bag
that the other women would
have ideas on how to repair.
She just wasn't sure how
they were deciding their piles.
Eventually she gave up and asked.
"Check for the fabric quality,"
said Granny Patches. "Pull at
the edge of a tear. If the fabric
is soft and rips easily, it goes in
the rag pile. If it's sturdy, then it has
more potential. Even if it's chewed
to scraps, you can quilt scraps."
"Also, anything natural has
more uses than synthetics,"
Chenille added. "Wool is
almost always valuable."
Well, that made sense.
Wool could last for years;
cheap polyester would
fall apart in months.
Once they had the box
sorted into things to fix
and everything else,
Darner said, "Now we
break down the discards."
This turned out to be
much more involved than
Karimah's habit of saving
buttons or bits of denim
to cut up for patches.
"The best fabric that's in
pieces goes for patchwork,"
said Granny Patches. "Just
trim off any ruined parts and
remove seams or findings."
"Buttons, zippers, and
other findings all have
their own containers,"
said Darner. "We group
embellishments loosely
by categories like lace,
embroidery, or patches."
As she spoke, she used
a seam ripper to strip off
a length of lace from the hem
of a badly stained white skirt.
"When you cut off seams,
don't throw them away,"
said Chenille. "They make
great rugs, mops, and
other things that benefit
from tough strips of cloth."
Instantly Karimah wanted
a mop made of seams. She
could see how sewn seams
would last longer than rope
or torn strips of fabric.
These women were
just so inspiring.
"Things that aren't
good enough to use in
patchwork can be cut down
to squares for cleaning rags
or strips for torch wicks,"
said Granny Patches.
"Socks work for dusting
if you slip them on over
your hands, so they can go
whole in the cleaning rags,"
Chenille added. "Convenient."
"Torch wicks have to get
separated into natural and
synthetic cloth," said Darner.
"Synthetics melt as they burn,
which is really pretty, but you
need something to catch drips."
They worked as they talked,
fingers flying to break down
old clothes into usable pieces.
With four women working
together, it went pretty fast.
They pushed buttons into piles,
stuffed zippers into a box, and
sliced off embroidery or beadwork
to save as future embellishments.
Even snips and scraps too small
to sew, stray threads, and fabric
too worn even for cleaning rags
were swept up for stuffing.
Karimah was falling in love
with this odd little community.
They used everything,
they wasted nothing,
and she loved it.
She said as much.
Granny Patches nodded,
then pointed to an old sampler
that hung on a nearby wall.
Embroidered words
in a poem read,
Eat it all,
Use it up,
Wear it out.
Make it do,
Or do without.
"I made that when I
was just a little girl,"
she said. "It stuck
with me when I had
a baby of my own
and not much money.
We may live better now,
but we're still frugal here."
Karimah gave a happy sigh.
"That's good to hear," she said.
Afra came up to the table,
carrying a craft book that
she spread on the top.
"Can I make yarn pictures?"
she asked her mother.
"I don't know," said Karimah.
"I've never seen anything
like those yarn pictures."
Felicity glanced at the book.
"There's an easier way than
glue for little fingers," she said.
"Darner, do we have contact paper,
sticky board, anything like that?"
"Yeah, there's a whole drawer
of adhesive supplies," said Darner.
"I'll get that and some scrap yarn."
She trotted off, and soon returned
with a square of cardboard and
a muslin bag straining at the seams
with odds and ends of old yarn.
"First, we peel off the backing
to expose the sticky stuff,"
said Felicity. "You can go
two ways next. Lay down
one strand of yarn at a time
to make a picture, or pile
on yarn by the handful
to make a big squiggle."
Afra pulled out a bunch
of yarn to sort it by color,
then began pressing bits
carefully against the board.
"Okay, we've got everything
sorted," said Granny Patches.
"Now we can start mending."
She picked up the flannel shirt.
"You can see where this has
been mended before," she said.
The elbows had been patched
and repatched. One cuff had
a lighter-colored button on it.
"I'll get the leather scraps,"
Darner said, bounding away.
She came back lugging a tub
that opened to reveal bits of
leather in all different colors.
Granny Patches picked out
some sandy-colored leather
to make elbow patches.
"Let's look in this box of
embroidered patches,"
Darner said to Karimah.
"I want one for my hat,
and you might find some
to fix your sweatshirt."
"All right," Karimah said,
though she wasn't sure
exactly what to look for.
Darner soon had a row
of possible patches
lined up in front of
herself for the hat.
From time to time,
she pushed a patch
toward Karimah instead.
There was a purple flower
that should cover the hole.
Then Darner chirped happily.
"Look, this is perfect!" she said,
holding out a patch that spelled
LOVE in purple sequined letters.
It even went with the flower.
"I'll show you on my hat first,"
said Darner. "I'm going
to sew up the hole in front."
That didn't take long, since
it wasn't all that big and didn't
need to be tidy under a patch.
"The fabric is so coarse, it
hardly shows," said Karimah.
"Yeah, it's baja cloth," said Darner.
"Now I'll sew the patch over it."
She chose a rainbow lightning bolt
to reflect bright threads in the weave.
"I think I'll run the brim through
a sewing machine so it doesn't
keep fraying forever," Darner said,
running her fingers through the fringe.
She took the hat to another part
of the work area, and soon
a sewing machine whirred.
Karimah spread her sweatshirt
on the table and laid the patches
over it. How hard could this be?
She had no trouble covering
the big hole with the flower,
but the sprinkling of stains
was harder to cover up.
The only way to get all
of them under the patch
was to tilt it at an angle.
"Oh, that looks great,"
said Felicity. "You should
sew it down just like that."
Karimah stepped back a bit.
The sweatshirt looked odd,
but not bad, with the patches
laid out in that manner.
Karimah sewed them on,
then held up the sweatshirt.
"What do you think?" she said.
"Yeah, I think it looks good,"
Chenille said. "Well done."
Next Karimah picked up
Afra's ripped jeans, and
looked over at her daughter.
Afra was reading a book again.
"Did you finish your yarn picture?"
Karimah asked, and Afra nodded.
"Then please come help me
with your jeans," said Karimah.
Darner came back with her hat,
which now had several rows of
stitching around the wide brim.
"Afra wanted flowers, right?"
said Darner. "Let's look in
the embellishment stashes."
She pulled out several pockets
with decorative stitching, a rosebud
stamped on fabric, and swatches
of heavy white cloth covered in
yellow embroidered flowers.
"Do you like any of these?"
Karimah asked Afra.
The little girl reached out
for the bright yellow flowers.
"That'll sure pop out against
the blue denim," said Darner.
"I could show you how to make
a backside patch with a border of
colored thread," said Granny Patches.
"Most kids love that kind of patchwork."
"Yes, please," said Karimah. "This is
so different than the repairs that I
usually do, but it's beautiful."
So Granny Patches helped her
cut out sections of white cloth
to pin behind the knee holes.
Darner found some thread
that variegated in shades of
yellow and white to sew around
the edges to create the border.
"See, now you can wear a top
that's orange, yellow, green, white,
or blue -- or any combination of
those colors -- and it'll look good
with these jeans," said Darner.
Afra was very nearly smiling
as she held up her fixed jeans.
"Thank you very much," she said.
"Oh, this thing!" Chenille exclaimed
as one of her afghans disgorged
a round ball of multicolored fluff.
"Mouse!" Afra squeaked, backing off.
Granny Patches stomped the ball
with her heavy gardening boot, thud!
Then she poked the flattened wad
with her toe. "Nope, nobody home,"
she declared. "I'll just put this
into the rag bag for stuffing."
Chenille held up the afghan
and frowned at the gaping holes.
"Can anyone help me clean up
the edges before I try to repair
this mess?" she asked them.
"Clean up how?" said Karimah.
"I'm not sure how to fix that."
"I can fix it, this will just go
faster if I have more hands
to pick out the damaged bits,"
said Chenille. "Simply unravel
anything frayed until you get
back to the intact yarn again."
"All right, that I can do,"
said Karimah. She moved
to where she could reach
part of the damaged afghan.
"Can I help?" Afra said.
"I finished my yarn picture."
"Well, this is kind of a fiddly job,"
said Felicity. "Do you like buttons?"
Afra nodded, leaning forward. "We
have -- had a jar of them at home."
That was now lost, along with
everything else in their apartment.
Nothing had survived the bombing.
"Then come here, we haven't had
time to sort these yet," Felicity said,
pointing out the pile of loose buttons.
"I'll get the button jars," Darner said,
heading back to the supply room.
"See how there are different kinds?"
Felicity said. "They get sorted by type,
based on how folks typically use them."
Darner came back with the button jars.
"These are for business shirt buttons,
colored buttons, fancy buttons, and
shank buttons. This last one has
matching buttons," she said. "I think
that should cover today's batch."
"Afra, if you find sets of buttons
that go together, pass them to me
and I'll string them so they don't
get separated," said Felicity.
With Afra happily sorting
buttons, Karimah could
focus on the afghan again.
Soon several people had it
spread over the tables and
their laps, picking loose
the fraying bits of yarn.
It was tedious work,
picking away at knots
and tangles with a pair
of tiny sharp scissors, but
Karimah still had a good eye
for such challenging tasks.
The women chattered as
they worked, and although
the details were foreign,
the tone was familiar as
they snipped and pulled.
The holes left behind were
alarmingly large, but Karimah
could see how the afghan was
made from concentric squares.
All Chenille would need to do
was recreate new squares and
then attach them at the edges.
She gathered up small balls
of yarn and began making
the squares for repairs.
Darner finished sweeping up
the tag ends of damaged yarn,
which could be used as stuffing.
"We're done sorting buttons,"
Felicity said, holding up a jar.
"Thank you for helping, Afra,"
said Karimah. "Would you
rather fold patchwork scraps
or find another book to read?"
"Book," Afra decided, and
went back to the craft shelf.
Felicity laid out her blue sweater
with its torn elbows and stained front.
"Do you want to watch how I make
knit-in-place repairs?" Felicity said.
"Yes, please," said Karimah.
"I want to patch up the hat
that I picked up for Mahir."
"First, we need to clean up
the holes, just like the afghan,
so that we have strong yarn
to work with," said Felicity.
They each took a sleeve,
and that task went quickly.
"Now I'll need some wool yarn
in different colors," said Felicity.
She went to the yarn room
and came back with a tub that
held small balls and skeins.
Sorting through the options,
she draped several of them
over the bright blue sweater.
"It's rare to find an exact match,
so I'm searching for different colors
from the stash that will look good
against the original," said Felicity.
She had dark green, turquoise,
goldenrod yellow, and a few shades
of pale to medium pink laid out.
"Turquoise?" Karimah said,
touching the skein. "It looks
like the sky. You could use
the others to make flowers."
"Great idea," said Felicity.
"Next, put a darning block
behind the hole, so you
don't stitch the patch to
the back side of the item."
Hers was sleek maple,
and it reminded Karimah
of the one she had lost.
Maybe she should
look for a replacement.
She hadn't had the heart,
earlier, but now that she
knew it could be used to fix
knitting as well as fabric,
maybe it was about time.
"To start making the patch, we
identify the closest intact row
of stitches below the hole,"
Felicity said, pointing to it.
Carefully she traced the hole
on one sleeve, then shifted
toward the cuff until she
found the intact row.
"Then we just gather up
the intact row of stitches on
a short double-pointed needle,
and start knitting," said Felicity.
"I think I can do that. Well,
maybe, with a little practice,"
said Karimah. "It doesn't
look too much harder than
the usual kind of knitting."
"Here I'm working in new yarn
so it attaches to the old yarn,"
Felicity said. "Pay attention
to how the edges join up,
connecting the new yarn
to the old at the beginning
and end of each row."
"That looks trickier,"
Karimah confessed.
"Whatever happens,
remember, it's just yarn!"
said Felicity. "If worst
comes to worst, simply
rip it out and try again."
Karimah chuckled. "It
wouldn't be the first time."
"Now I've knit enough
to fill in the empty part,"
said Felicity. "The top
closes like this, attaching
the new yarn to the old
where there's a whole row."
"So that's just like the bottom,
only in reverse," said Karimah.
"Pretty much," said Felicity. "Do
you want to try fixing the hat now?"
"Yes," Karimah said. "It can't
be that difficult to manage."
It was harder than it looked.
Felicity went back to her own work,
embroidering flowers over the patch
of turquoise on the sweater sleeve.
Karimah struggled with the yarn
that she'd chosen for the patch.
She had found some ivory that
matched the stripes on the hat,
probably because so many sheep
gave ivory wool, but the new patch
came out all lumpy and awkward.
"It looks like a sheep," said Afra.
"See how the legs go down?"
The 'legs' went down because
Karimah couldn't keep the bottom
of the patch in a straight line.
"It's just a hat," said Felicity.
"As long as it's whole, it should
keep the cold out. Do you want
to keep it as is, or rip it out
and try another round?"
"I can do better than this,"
Karimah said as she unraveled
what she had just knitted up.
She thought about what
Afra had said, though.
It had kind of looked
like a sheep. Karimah
wondered if she could
play with that a little.
She dug back into
the yarn stash and
found several balls
of much darker wool.
There was one similar
to the grayish-brown
on the original hat.
Very carefully, she
reknitted the patch,
this time including
a dark sheep face.
It was still lumpy,
but now it looked like
it was meant to be.
Maybe the sheep hat
would make Mahir smile.
"It's cute," said Afra.
"Daddy will like it."
Then she ducked
under a table, and
emerged with hands
full of buttons and
a stray ball of yarn.
"That was thoughtful
of you," said Karimah.
"Thank you for helping
us keep the room tidy."
Felicity had made
good progress on
mending her sweater,
but she set it aside
to help Afra put away
the buttons and yarn.
"You know, these are
very popular craft items
at A Kinder Garden where
I work," said Felicity. "I
wonder if you'd like it there."
"You said you were a teacher,"
Karimah recalled. "What's it like?"
"My school focuses on teaching
personal growth and social skills
through nature, rather than pushing
young children into academic work
too soon," said Felicity. "It makes
a good place for children with
a challenging past, because we
let them be themselves and help
them find constructive coping skills."
"It sounds nice, but it must be
very expensive," said Karimah.
"No, we try to keep costs down,"
said Felicity. "There are scholarships
and work-trade options for families.
Besides, Refugee Services has
funds for education if needed."
Karimah thought about that.
She wanted Afra to get better,
but so far few of the suggestions
had seemed helpful, and she
didn't want to overwhelm the girl
with a regular preschool when
Afra wasn't even playing at home.
Today was the most interest
that Afra had shown in anything
since the bombing mangled
their family, and Karimah
wanted to encourage it.
"Perhaps you could give us
more information about
the school," said Karimah,
snatching the opportunity.
"I could discuss it with
my husband, and later
all three of us could visit."
"Yes, of course," said Felicity.
"I can get you some handouts."
"Save that for tomorrow,"
Granny Patches suggested.
"It's almost supper time. Start
looking for a place to stop if
you're still mending. Karimah,
would you like to eat with us?"
"I would, but do you have
halal food?" said Karimah.
Granny Patches grinned.
"We have hippie food, which
is mostly fruits and vegetables.
I don't know if we have any meat
that would suit, but produce is
generally permissible, right?"
"As long as it hasn't touched
anything haram, yes it is,"
said Karimah. "We'll stay."
She was already looking
forward to the meal.
Making new friends
wasn't easy after all she'd
come through, but Karimah
had a good feeling about
these people now.
Maybe this would
help mend more
than just clothes.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its setting and content notes appear separately.
