My grandmother, Onorina (Nora, for short) passed away a few years ago (my Dad’s mum). She was in her early nineties.
I kept this scarf that was one of her favourites, and it hangs in my wardrobe. Walking past last week, I noticed something really special. Now I know this would not be special to most people, but to me, this is:
Little stitches, where she had once done a quick repair by hand, obviously a long time ago, because it came apart again. When I saw this I just stopped, and stared at it for a long time.
This was a scarf that she would wear to cover herself from cold or windy weather.
I smile as I think of her quiet, sometimes stubborn personality. She used to talk a lot about what her life was like in Italy, and sing a lot of folk songs, she used to work in the silk mill, and all the working ladies would sing common songs as they worked . . .