The first time I saw my dad sitting at a sewing machine, I honestly thought something was wrong.
This was the man I knew:vr
A plumber.
Rough hands. Heavy boots. Always tired.
Not someone who made dresses.
So when I saw fabric spread across the table, a sewing machine humming late at night… I didn’t get it.
“Since when do you sew?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Since YouTube and your mom’s old sewing kit.”
I laughed it off.
But something about it stayed with me.
It had always been just the two of us.
