It can be quite odd, sometimes, the possessions that we hang on to.
Once a week, I think it was, we would meet with whatever mom was organizing activities for us that year. I guess we would do crafty types of things. Honestly, I really don’t remember.
However, one week, we each made a little needlecase. It was nothing fancy — a small rectangle of felt for the cover and a bit of flannel for the inside, held together with some long running stitches, and with our initials snipped from bits of fabric stitched to the front.
For years, I kept mine, even though I didn’t really use it. It just stayed in my sewing box with other assorted notions and odds and ends. It always had a couple or three needles in it, but I generally kept my needles in my pincushion.
But some years ago, maybe it was when I started hand quilting, I started keeping my needles in it. Now, it has so many needles in it, there’s hardly room on the little inside “pages” — a bunch end up on the outside.