When I became a new mother, the box of “stocking stuff” was bequeathed to me. Sequins, bugle beads, odd earrings, plastic charms stored in metal tins and a bag of felt bits became the palette as this family tradition was passed to the next generation.
As a little girl, I enjoyed the rituals and traditions of the holidays, but didn’t realize the love that had been stitched into these heirlooms until I became the stocking maker.
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