Sew Cool

        “Kat, what are you doing?” I ask, staring at her. She’s sitting on the picnic blanket I had set up, the sun shining off of her blonde pixie cut. I distantly note how content she looks, in her bright pink cat hoodie and black yoga pants just soaking up the sun. However, the item in her hands distracts me.

               “What, this?” She asks good-naturedly, holding up the offending object. “It’s called sewing, Jaz.” She goes back to the needle and thread in her hand, pulling the needle in and out of some green fabric in her lap.

               “That’s not sewing,” I say, stretching my legs so that my white socks touch Kat’s knees. “Sewing is done with a machine. I’ve seen my mom do it.” I lean back and place my hands just outside of the picnic blanket rectangle, and I feel the soft grass sneak between my fingers. It really is a nice day, there’s a slight breeze that rustles the tree leaves and keeps the sun from being too overbearing. I almost want to close my eyes and bask in the rare show of good weather, but I’m still transfixed by Kat’s slender fingers pulling the needle in and out of the fabric. I realize she’s actually “sewing” two pieces of the same size and shape together.

               Kat laughs at my statement, the sound like the wind chimes outside of my bedroom window. “Well, I’m hand sewing. It’s easier for smaller projects.” She says, staring at her green fabric. She sticks the needle in and doesn’t pull it back out. “Look, I’m sewing a frog!” She says, all smiles as she holds up the work in progress. Now that I know what it’s supposed to be, I can clearly see the shape of the legs and the bulge for the head. Her green eyes stare at me, looking for a response.

               “Oh, that’s cool.” I say, sitting up and scooting closer to her. She holds it out for me to hold, and gently I take it from her. The fabric is soft, and I can see where she’s been sewing. The edges are rough from being cut, but the hand sewn lines create a strong and smooth border. “It’s looking really good so far,” I tell her, and Kat beams. I chuckle slightly and hand the frog back to her. “I could never make something like that. My fingers are too clunky.”

               Kat gives an offended gasp, clutching at her heart dramatically. “Never say never!” She cries, scooting even closer to me. We’re now flush up against each other, my taller frame looming over the crafty girl. She looks at me, eyes squinting and judging something. “Eh, this is easier.” She says, shrugging. The next thing I know I have a lap full of Kat as she plops herself snuggly in between my legs. My chin could rest on her head, but I can hardly see through the curtain of hair dislodged from my messy bun.

               I pull the long brown strands back as Kat continues to make herself comfortable. I’m a little confused, but I’m sort of used to Kat’s antics by now. After having been friends for 10 years, nothing can surprise you. Well, except for hand sewing apparently.

               “Alright,” Kat says, finally settled. “Give me your hands.” I roll my eyes, but I comply. She gently but swiftly takes them both, and I’m forced to put my chin on her head as she pulls me forward. She places my right hand on her leg and grabs the needle.

               “First off, be careful. This needle is really sharp.” She says seriously. She holds up the needle. I stare at it for a few seconds, processing. Is she really trying to teach me how to sew?

               “Hey Kat,” I say nervously, pulling away. My left hand is still trapped, though, so I don’t get very far. “I, I um… I don’t think this is a good idea. Remember? Clunky fingers? I’ll end up ruining your project.” I say, trying to pull away again.

               “No, it’s fine. You won’t ruin it.” She responds calmy. “That’s another reason I like hand sewing, it’s very forgiving.” She takes my right hand and wraps my forefinger and thumb around the dull end of the needle. “Anyway Jaz,” she says, “I’m right here. I won’t let anything go wrong.” I let my shoulders relax and I try to confidently hold the needle. Kat’s right, of course. There’s no real reason to be nervous.

               I watch as Kat guides my hands, having my left hand line up the fabric and hold it still while she has my right hand put the needle through. “So you need to keep the fabric lined up. Usually I’d pin it, but I think the second piece of fabric is a little smaller. I’m just trying to keep it together as much as I can.” Kat begins explaining. I watch her help me straighten out the thread as it pulls through, keeping it from tangling or knotting.

               “It’s really easy, you just need to pull it through.” She says. It’s a very calming task, I soon realize as the breeze and the repetition of my hands starts to relax me. It becomes a rhythm: Kat and I just pull the needle through both layers from the top, from the bottom, and move the fabric. Over and over again as the birds are singing and the trees are swaying.

               I don’t even realize when Kat pulls her hands away and suddenly I’m hand sewing all by myself. Kat relaxes back into me, and soon she starts to hum. It’s a lovely little tune that harmonizes with the songs of the birds around us. I’m warm, I’m happy, and I’m with my best friend who’s teaching me how to sew.

               I smile.

               After a while, the frog is almost finished. I’m surprised, how long have we been sitting here? I stick the needle through the fabric to hold it, like I saw Kat do earlier. I start to move and notice that Kat’s asleep. I chuckle and gently shake her shoulder. Her eyes flutter open, green meeting my blue.

               “What do I do next?” I ask her, holding up the frog so she can see. Her face lights up and she jumps off of my lap, almost smacking me upside the chin with her head.

               “Oh wow, Jaz! That’s awesome!” She says, standing with the frog she had excitedly snatched from me in her hands. She turns to me with a smug look on her face, putting her hands on her hips. “And you said you wouldn’t be able to do it.” She says proudly.

               I shrug and grin, “I had a great and supportive teacher, it would’ve been harder for me to fail.” I say. “But now what do we do?”

               Kat puts the frog down next to me and heads over to the tree where she put her bag. After a little searching, she finally pulls out a little bag full of white fluff. “Now we stuff it!” She says, walking over and sitting in front of me. She grabs all of the fluff and tears the white blob in half. “Here’s how you do it,” she says, and holds up the frog. “See this opening here? The little part you haven’t sewn shut yet?” I nod. “Well, you first need to turn the frog inside out. That way all anyone can see is the nice edge you’ve sewn.” She says.

               I nod excitedly and grab the frog. “I’ve seen my mom do this a hundred times.” I say. Kat laughs, and gestures to me.

               “Go ahead then. Impress me.”

               I gently shove the opposite end of the frog through the opening and lead the rest of the fabric out. After a little bit of pulling and adjusting, the frog looks a little more like an actual stuffed animal. I smile and hold it out confidently. “Ha. I told you I knew how.”

               Kat did have the decency to look a little surprised, and she smirks and takes the frog from me. “Now the exciting part,” she grins, the holds up her half of the fluff. “We stuff it.” She then sticks out her tongue in concentration and pushes the fluff through the open part of the frog’s mouth. She eventually gets it all in, but there are white shavings all over her black pants.

               “Kat,” I say, trying not to laugh, “look at your legs.” She looks down and opens her mouth in surprise.

               “Oh,” she groans, “It looks like my cat sat on me.” I can’t hold it much longer, and as she starts to pitifully try and pull the pinpricks off I bust out laughing. At first she looks at me, shocked and playfully hurt.

               “Okay, laugh at my pain.” She says, shoving the half-stuffed frog into my hands. “I want to see how you feel when the same happens to you.”

               I smirk and take the frog, shoving my part of the fluff into it confidently. It almost worked smoothly, but suddenly a large part of the fluff falls out of the mouth I had just smooshed. I stare in dismay at the white particles all over my black shirt and blue jeans, and Kat falls onto her back laughing. I laugh too as I shove the rebellious fuzz back into the frog and throw it at Kat. She squeaks as it hits her in the face, and sits up still chuckling.

               “Alright, lets close it up.” She says, and picks up her spool of thread and her needle, cutting the thread and threading the needle. As she does so I stare at the skyline. The sun’s beginning to set, having made its way below the treetops.

               I stand. “Hey Kat,” I say, walking over to my backpack and picking it up. “I had a really good time today. I’ve got to get home though, before my parents freak.” Kat looks up at me with a very happy smile.

               “That’s alright! I had fun today too! I’m glad you let me teach you how to hand sew!” She says, waving her needle in a goodbye. “See you tomorrow Jasmine!”

               “See you tomorrow Kat.” I say, and I start the short walk home. I need to make her something in thanks. Maybe a frog?