I pulled out the sewing machine the other day and stitched up a tear on the inside of the duvet cover.

I hate to admit it but I haven’t had the sewing machine out of the box for a couple years.

I bought it more than three years ago because I feel like every household should have a sewing machine. And they’re, like, the coolest thing ever invented. I don’t quite understand how the thread in the bobbin intertwines with the thread in the needle to do its magic. I’ve taken it apart and looked at the diagrams, but I’m still rather amazed to see the stitches that come out. Everything is so perfect, so rhythmic, so well spaced; the machine hums out it’s steady song as the needle hops back and forth and the threads get tied, mysteriously, together.

I’m not particularly good at sewing. I got a job at a sail loft once and did my best to stitch together huge pieces of white Dacron that would be used to harness the power of the wind and pull boats through the water. I messed up a lot and the owners were nice to me and didn’t tell me how bad it was. I’d take apart my errant stitches with a seam-ripper and do them again. It hurt a lot when I’d jab the seam ripper into my thumb.

They never told me, but I could tell when I’d come in the next morning that they had re-sewn some of my sails. It was a lot of work for them to take apart a long stitch then run the whole thing through the machine again. They were kind and didn’t criticize me as I made little improvement.

Those machines were big and industrial and powerful and scary. Picture a farm tractor with a big needle on the end. I had trouble keeping things from going out of control when they got up to full speed. I did manage to put together one sail pretty well and I actually saw the boat sailing out of the harbor under the power of the sail I had just made.

My machine is a basic model. It’s white and has a light, a reverse lever, a foot pedal. It can sew through lots of fabrics; it can sew denim. I think it can sew leather if it’s not too thick. It does straight stitches and zig zags and button holes and a bunch of other things selected with dials.

I figured when I bought it that there’s so much fabric around a typical home, surely I could use my machine to make practical things like cushions and pillows and maybe even curtains. The curtains wouldn’t have to be too fancy, after all.

I have a plastic bin with some fabric scraps. I have a pincushion, pins and some kind of chalk pencil to mark the fabric. I made a cushion. Some bags. Some simple repairs of torn fabric items. But I have to admit I just haven’t done much more than that. I found myself intrigued the other day to see my machine running like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I quit the job at the sail loft job after a few weeks. I just didn’t think I was good enough and I was afraid to see if I could get better. I tended to give up back then. If I had stayed there I would probably be really good at sewing now. At running my little machine and at running those big monsters with all that horsepower and the huge spools of thick white thread piercing giant swaths of heavy fabric.

I’m pretty pleased to have the rip inside the duvet cover fixed. The sewing machine is still out of its box, back to its place of honor on my shelf. I may see if I can piece together another simple bag or pillow soon. I like that I’m picking it up again, knowing that I can learn whatever I want, I just have to sit down and do it. Make the effort. Read the manual. Have some patience. The bobbin is wound, the needle is threaded and the sewing machine is still, like, the coolest invention ever.