Like so many people during COVID, I found myself searching for comfort in familiar things. Cleaning out a closet one day, I found my mother's needlepoint stash I'd saved from my parents house after my mother had passed. It had been years since I had stitched, but sitting on the floor, I began sorting through her needlepoint canvases, threads, and treasures she had collected over a lifetime of stitching. Tucked away in her stuff was this unfinished canvas—a sweet little squirrel she had started but never completed. The moment I found it, I knew I wanted to finish what she had begun.
As I worked each stitch, I wasn't just completing a canvas. I was reconnecting with the woman who first taught me to needlepoint at a very young age. Every thread carried a memory, every section brought back moments of sitting beside her, being creative and the simple joy of making something by hand. What started as a way to pass the time during an uncertain season became something much more meaningful—a way to feel close to her again.
Finishing this canvas reignited a love for needlepoint that had been quietly waiting for years. It reminded me that needlepoint is about so much more than thread and canvas. It's about preserving memories, honoring traditions, and connecting generations through something made by hand. This little squirrel may seem like a simple project, but for me, it became a bridge between the past and the future.
In many ways, this unfinished canvas—and the stash of treasures my mother left behind—is a large part of why Emerald Coast Needlepoint exists today. What began as an act of remembrance became a new chapter, one stitch at a time. Every canvas, needle minder, and design I create is rooted in the same belief my mother passed on to me: that the things we make with our hands often become the stories we carry in our hearts. ❤️🧵
