One summer, my mum decided to teach my sisters and me how to embroider. She thought it was a useful skill we needed in our arsenal, and it was something to remove any boredom we supposedly thought we had.
So, embroidery classes started at home during the hot summer. My mom bought white pillowcases, thread, and a pattern. The pattern showed us what we were trying to achieve, the thread was the right weight and color for the pattern, and the pillowcases were a blank canvas.
She then explained how each stitch produced a certain pattern; satin, knot, and chain stitch are some that I remember. But there were many more. The thing with each of these stitches is that they produced a beautiful pattern on the right side of the pillow, but the underside was not so appealing. The underside is where you could correct mistakes without starting over. It's
