Peggy’s prompt—when she’s through

Peggy’s prompt—when she’s through

When she’s through, she hangs the dishrag carefully over the water faucet, spreading it out to dry. The dishrag, like most everything else in the house is a piece of recycled cloth from an old housedress she had sewed for herself years ago. The dishtowel, to dry the dishes with, was also once a skirt, or a pillowcase, or a feed sack, cut and hemmed to serve again. She doesn’t use feed sacks anymore to make her daughters’dresses; she’d gotten embarrassed when her oldest daughter’s teacher complimented her on her pretty dress, and her daughter had replied, “Mama made it from a feed sack.” While that was true, it made their precarious financial situation a little too obvious, so she had begun to buy up cloth for dresses when it came on sale at JC Penney’s. She bought most basics through the Sears catalog—underwear and socks and her husband’s work pants, but for dress material she needed to be able to see it before she bought it. The saleslady at Penney’s, who was a widow and had to work, was nice as she could be, and confided to her that she made all of her clothes, too. They just fit better, don’t they, the saleslady had said, and she’s agreed, although they both knew it was because homemade was cheaper. Some things were better left unsaid.