One last step

I really can't believe we are at this point, but we have only one approval left to wait for: travel approval. We received our Article 5 on December 27th so we are already a week into our TA wait. You'd think I would be absolutely beside myself with joy, but things are very bittersweet right now.

The new year began with arriving home from a wonderful trip to Mexico to find out that my sweet grandfather had passed away that morning. Without getting into too many details, I'll just say that he was ready and it was time for him to be with my grandma again. He was very loved and will be missed by us all.

Yesterday I began the final process of preparing Nora's room, which means that my work studio (a.k.a. Sewingland or The Sweatshop) is going away. I've spent nearly everyday in that room, often for 12-16 hours at a time to help us make a living. I busted my butt building my reputation and am proud to say that I've become a rather well-known seamstress in the area. I've worked with difficult brides who I was happy to see leave, and sweet brides who I think of often and hope are doing well. I am in no way saying that I would rather continue working at the expense of bring our girl home, it's just very odd to have a physical manifestation of the end of that stage, at least for now. I keep finding myself thinking, "Oh, I'll need that silk soon because I know another pride is going to want to use it on her dress," and having to remember that by the end of the week I will have exactly zero clients.

My grandfather's passing made me think of the passing of my grandmother as well. The two of them were inseparable in my mind, and when she died I think she took most of him with her. She's been gone for a few years now, but I remember how sweet and loving she always was. She was a very talented cook as well as an amazing knitter. Each Christmas she would knit slippers for all her children and grandchildren. Thanksgiving wasn't complete until you put in your color requests, and Christmas Day we would all run around in our new slippers. They always fit perfectly. Funny, I always took that for granted. After she was gone, I was sad to realize that I had never saved a pair. I think I wore them so much that they always were worn out by the time the new ones arrived.

While putting away my studio, I pulled out a small blue wooden trunk that I got when I was 8 or 9. I had gotten an American Girl doll (Kirsten, from back when there was only 3 dolls) and desperately wanted the wooden trunk that you could buy. Of course, they were extremely expensive, so I knew it would never really happen. Instead, my grandpa surprised me with a beautiful trunk he lovingly made, even painting it the dusty blue color that it was "supposed" to be. As a child, I was a little bugged that it always smelled strongly of that paint, but otherwise it was probably my most prized possession. I had kept it in storage for a while, figuring that I would want to give it to my children someday, but never opened it.

Yesterday, I opened it for the first time in probably 15 years. It still smells like that paint. I took out the doll, remembering all the time I had spent dressing her up. I lifted the wood board that separated my doll from her clothing, and began pulling out each dress. My mom had actually made a few of the dresses, though it took me a bit to remember which ones she had sewn since they all are expertly made. After laying out each dress and thinking about the hands that made the chest and the dresses, I looked down and was hit by a memory that I had long since forgotten. A Christmas morning when I got, not one, but two pairs of slippers. How could I have possibly forgotten that? I pulled the single tiny white slipper out of the chest, it's partner long since lost, and slipped it on my doll's foot. It fit perfectly, of course.