poetry

Bev’s Stitchery

Bev’s Stitchery

the bell on the glass door jingles
I step in and it shuts
me into the vacuum of
the silent craft store
white walls pitted with peg boards
things to do in all directions
and no hands to do them
except two

he had been at the windows
watching the traffic
this tall lean grey-haired farmer
so utterly out of place
so clearly not-Bev
but the only possible proprietor
and I’m not sure whether
I’m relief from tedium
or a nuisance

I tell him what I’m in for
and he leads me straight there
ma’am-ing me all the way
it’s a simple transaction
I pay cash to keep things snappy
but I can’t stop wondering
where’s Bev?
I look over the register postings
for a clue:
a funeral parlor?
hospital?
prayer meeting?
craft show?

but no, there’s something in the gravity
with which he turns off the open light
as I leave
something about the disjunct
between his stiff Wrangler jeans
and the women’s notions
I believe he’s spent his day within
that at home I look her up

Beverly L. Vancura Zabloudil
born in rural Nebraska in 1942
married to Ray at 20
mother to Raylene two years after
moved to Buena Vista 1965

In 1977, she took her love of sewing and crafts
into the marketplace.
She bought out a fabric store,
and Bev’s Stitchery was born.
When she wasn’t quilting,
she would have a crochet hook,
knitting needle
or cross-stitch needle in her hand.
She said that you should never
have time to be bored.

She died in hospice in 2015,
preceded in death by daughter Raylene
whose 2012 obituary says she
loved quilting, crocheting and needlework,
and she taught those and other crafts.

Ray’s 87 now
and has already added his name
to the headstone they all share
for at least four years now
he’s put in his own long hours
in the empty shop
keeping the lights on
to keep them near
not knowing
how to bind off

*text in italics taken from their public obituaries