After my parents got married, they moved clear across the country, away from all of their family and friends. I was born in Pomona, California within the year. It was 1954. My mom was 19-years old. When I was about three months old, my mother became pregnant with my brother, Andy. Having few friends and stuck at home with me, she took up needlepoint. (You can see the original in the extras.) It gave her something to do until his birth, and it took the entire length of her pregnancy to complete. She loved poppies and I think that's what motivated her to finish it.
It was the only needlepoint she ever did. She was so proud of it that it followed her back to Buffalo, into the tiny house where I grew up, then into our "new" house when I was thirteen. After my father passed away in the early nineties, she sold the house and moved into an apartment. The needlepoint went with her.
In 2004, she brought it with her to Arizona where it hanged on her wall. She would frequently look at it and proudly say, "I made that!" I made sure it followed her to my home, where it hangs in a place of honor on my living room wall.
So, thanks to Ingeborg for the abstract theme of homemade because it gave me the opportunity to share her story. A story as old as me.