Notches are a means of finding your way in dressmaking. The pattern calls for a deviation from the cutting line, modest enough to not interfere with the seam, yet too big to be ignored. They come in small, medium and large. The idea is to recognize which pieces go together in the great sorting game of assembling bodices and sleeves and collars. 

 

 

Masks are multiplying at a surprising rate around the world. A friend went to a big box store hunting for thread and elastic, and the shelves were bare. I was able to help out from my ample supplies. My own marathon of masking is made easier by the kits I was given. The fabric is precut, and has those helpful notches included. Since these masks are going to people who truly need them I want to get it right, and each time the notches line up I calm down a bit. 

 

"Whew. I am getting it right."

 

Most of us have lost our pattern. The lines we have followed up until recently have been chopped off, and we are picking up scraps off the floor in an attempt to reconstruct our routine. Family events, church, jobs are all a different shape than they were eight weeks ago, and it is hard to recalibrate. 

 

This week a friend was braving the store and offered to get a few things for neighbors. I sent a message and was grateful for the needed item. Later my stalwart kids wrapped their faces and headed out for a major resupply. They offered to reciprocate the offer we had so recently been the benefactors of, and I said as much on social media. Two friends sent a message for specific items. My kids were happy to deliver them. One of those paid with money and the other with a loaf of homemade raisin bread. 

 

It is small enough to ignore, if you have a mind to. But in the grand scheme of assembling community, it felt like the notches lined up. We are getting it right.

 

I think Someone smiled.