Having folded the contents with precision, I sealed the package and affixed the customs declaration. “How long will this take to reach the US?” I queried the Chinese-Australian who ran my local post shop.
“Nowadays it takes about twenty-five days,” he said. “Sometimes less. Depends on US customs. It’s something important?”
The postie knew me. Or at least my mail was known to him. He processed and stamped my annual confessions to the US Internal Revenue Service, stamped handmade cards to my mother and held Christmas gifts sent to me, summoning me for collection.
“Not really,” I scrunched my nose, sneaking out a cheeky grin. “Kind of a gift. Long overdue. Meant to send it last year.”
“If you meant to send it a year ago, why worry about the time now?” he laughed, matching my sense of humour.
“I’m just keeping an eye on you!” I chortled, making my way to the door. He waved as I left.
Yep. I meant to send that package a year ago, just as the pandemic was closing schools, shops, and international borders.
Around that time, I engaged in a brief email exchange with a friend I did not know especially well; she confessed that she was busier than ever, almost overwhelmed by all that was going on. I live in Australia, and she lives in the US, so there is no way for me to deliver the traditional Relief Society meal. Even non-traditional was out: I had learned that ordering a pizza with a foreign credit card, for delivery to a person not named on the credit card “as a gift,” sounded not so much Christlike as it did fraudulent. So that was out. Thus, I did what I do when words seem… not enough. I planned to make and send her a thoughtful gift, resplendent with a handwritten card.
I began by locating a Women of the Bible quilting pattern book gifted to me a lifetime ago. Eve, I thought, choosing the pattern of a tree with fruit. It was perfect for a pillowcase. But within days, both local and international postage had all but ceased in modern terms. I busied myself by rifling through my assortment of international fabrics that I has collected over the years … and yet I was quite aware that deliveries to and from the US were now barely treading water. Mail was being delivered as if on passenger ships in the 1880’s “Gold Rush” era: paddling along slow and steady, reliant on waves of good weather.
It was a hobby of mine, collecting fabrics and handmade textiles from places I visited around the globe. I selected a hand-dyed juniper and umber print from Israel, and thinking it looked like earth, chose it as a foundation for the threads I hoped to plant alongside it. Next I chose an Aboriginal print of The Dreaming, and then, thinking it too fiery red, opted for a blue dot print instead. As I quilted along, highlighting the long, circular, curving lines that depicted the Dreamtime divine feminine, I missed a family wedding: While our hard lockdown meant temporary imprisonment, it was contrasted with a fleeting temple opening that meant eternity for them.
I had a stash of a rolling crescent style Japanese orange, lilac, mustard, and sage print, much more than was needed for what I began to think of as the Eve Tree. The excess fabric was handy, because by then, I was sewing masks.
As I sewed hundreds of masks, my sewing machine hummed until the sewing needle (s!) broke, and I became frustrated. I quickly shoved the Eve Tree pieces in a bag and stashed it out of the way, focused on protecting my family and community, until I entirely forgot about the Eve Tree project.
In time, masks became commonplace. They were sold everywhere from dollar shops to high end department stores. As I closed my sewing machine, I happily vacuumed the last threads from the carpet. No more sewing for me! I had new math to teach– after I learned it, of course!
My family and I hunkered down, feeding ourselves on food storage and Netflix for a time. As tiny bits of freedom returned, and after surfing Facebook for the first time in months, we were inspired. We delivered “pick me up” boxes to our neighbours: each contained a roll of toilet paper, a tub of hand sanitizer we learned to make from a Relief Society post, a mask I had sewn, and chocolate. Because chocolate. How did the pioneers make it across the plains without chocolate? I once asked my mother when I was a child. I could not remember her answer, try as I might.
As a result of legal and common sense limitations, we played “ding-dong-distance” in place of “ding-dong-ditch.” In our version, we hit the doorbell, ran ten paces, and pointed at the box we left. Grabbing “air hugs” in return, we were grateful to do something that did not involve screens or technology. Fresh air felt good.
Then, one day, when I was looking for something else, I saw an earthy brown and grape purple fabric swatch. It was an amazing combination of colours I thought could never go well together, so bought it because that colour combination amazed me. From India, it was what I wanted to use for the trunk of the Eve tree pattern.
It had been ten months.
I threaded my machine and found a zipper that I think I bought year before in New Zealand. Because I shop like that on holidays- fabric and zippers. At least that once. Ready, steady, go!
I smiled life into this work- a collection of fabric memories, pandemic passion and… well… my own quirkiness. I had hoped for something lovely, but this was better. Much better. My gift was no more a surprise, it had morphed into a ghost. A friendly ghost. An accordingly casper of transitory thought and intended goodwill from a moment that was a lifetime ago.
Truthfully, I do not recall the details of that original email anymore, and I am sure my friend will not either. Thinking about this whole crazy thing makes me giggle. I followed the prompting to “never supress a generous thought.” That thought just took longer than I anticipated. Mostly, I am relieved to have finally finished it, even if it took a long time. I saw it through to the end.
Likewise, I’ve had my first injection. I’ll have the second in about twenty-five days. Relieved is a good word for that, too. Seeing this all to an end, woven stich by stitch around the world, is also a blessing. Even though it is taking a very long time, I will see it through to the end.