There are several work-in-progress or half-done sewing projects strung throughout the room. A light blue, pink and yellow french-rose baby quilt stitched together from my sister's baby clothes is pegged to quilting frames in the left corner. Looking closely you can see intricate, tiny stitches that would rival the Amish create an intricate quilted pattern. This quilt has been here for a couple of years, started as a baby shower gift for my sister's first daughter who is now 4. But, the stitches have to be just right.
The right corner has stacks of cut out aprons waiting to be sewn. Each planned with a person in mind, the fabric to match their personality. The pattern has a retro style to it, with a hole at the top for the neck and a ruffle at the bottom. Of course they are reversible, because they need to be beautiful from both sides. These are intended as birthday presents for 27 special people.
In the center of the room is an intricate marble maze made of primary colored plastics to entertain children. It is one of those pull-apart-and-rebuild-again types, where you can construct the maze in whichever order you want: the spiral first, or maybe the wheel, sometimes the funnel, or the zig zag.
This is the only room in my house that isn't decorated and cleaned to perfection. I love this room. Magic happens in this room. This is where my mother plays Dr. Mario. This is the one game she loves, because this is the game she will always win. She says it's because it keeps her brain sharp, but us kids all know the truth. This is the game that brings out competition and genius inside my mother. She leans back in the padded banana chair to sprawl her legs wide placing one foot on each side of the old tv on the forgotten armoir and braces herself. This is her battle stance. I can see concentration rise in her eyes as she selects Dr. Mario as her player, because, well... that IS the main character and master. Fire lights her eyes as the game counts down from 3, giving her just a flash of the amount and array of viruses she will have to kill with colored pills.
The buzzer rings and there she goes!
Her fingers whiz away on the joystick, as if to massage and coax the joystick into obeying her every command. She stacks the pills perfectly and presses down on the buttons to speed the drug delivery. 4 of each color stacked together and a virus is dead. Her mind and hands together build intricate patterns of colors so that one fatal pill can wipe several viruses all at once and send open fire to the opposing force. I'm pretty sure she shouts at the viruses in her mind to die. I see it in the spark of her eye, but she would never say it aloud. Unless of course she slips a "stink" in, which sometimes happens. That is the closest she will ever get to swearing. She is really good at this game and beats my butt every time I play against her. My cheeks sting as I think about it. She'll try to persuade us all to play with her, assuring us that she really ISN'T that good, and that we'll probably beat her. But we all know. If she doesn't have anyone to play with, she'll play against the computer on the highest level. Because winning isn't winning if you don't really win. This is the only thing I have ever seen my mother be remotely prideful about. But I love it when she wins. She gets humbly smug, an emotion I didn't even know existed, but somehow she manages.
Every time I watch my mother play Dr. Mario, I am reminded of Captain Moroni in the Book of Mormon. He too was a genius in battle and strategy with a passion to fight for a good cause. In fact,"If all men had been, and were, and ever would be, like unto Moroni, behold, the very powers of hell would have been shaken forever; yea, the devil would never have power over the hearts of the children of men." He didn't glory in killing, but in doing good, preserving his people and strengthening their forts. He erected small forts, places of resort to strengthen their fortifications and give them advantage in battle. He gave his life to defend his people and had such charisma and passion as to recruit him to the cause of the Christians.
My mom does the same. She may not be defending a nation and a people, but she fights for me, strengthens me, fortifies me and builds me places of resort. She only glories in doing good and has an incredible knack of calling me to her cause, whether it be fighting fake viruses or sewing a quilt for someone who needs it. This is her Title of Liberty.