My Mom's Embroidery

When I was a little girl, my mother used to embroider a great deal. I would sit at her knee and look up from the floor and ask what she was doing.

She informed me that she was embroidering.

I told her that it looked like a mess from where I was, the underside. I watched her work within the boundaries of the little round hoop that she held in her hand.

She would smile at me, look down and gently say, "My daughter, you go about your playing for a while, and when I am finished with my embroidering, I will put you on my knee and let you see it from my side."

I would wonder why she was using some dark threads along with the bright ones and why they seemed so jumbled from my view.

A few minutes would pass and then I would hear Mother's voice say, "Daughter, come and sit on my knee."

This I did, only to be surprised and thrilled to see a beautiful flower or a sunset.

I could not believe it, because from underneath it looked so messy.