She gave me scraps and scissors, yarn and wonder.
She taught me that beauty can be improvised, and mistakes are just design elements with better stories. She could see possibility in anything —cardboard, old sweaters, empty jars. And somehow, she saw it in me, too. Then she dressed me up like a frog…

Our house was forever remaking itself, always buzzing with the sound of ideas taking shape. She stitched care into every corner, even when she pretended not to notice how much I needed it.

She made things—not just crafts, but memories, resilience, play. She taught me how to be fair, how to build friendships, how to love.

So yes, I got roots and wings and snacks and advice.
But I also got sequins in my socks, paint under my fingernails, and a living reminder that creation is how we remember we’re alive.

Hey Mom, I love you!

Pssst: click on. the flows down there 👇