Our mother has always had a sewing room, at least since Kelli and I have been alive. In our first house in San Antonio it was a wood paneled addition with floor to ceiling shelves on one wall. In our second house they converted what would have been the formal dining room into an expansive laundry and sewing room complete with an island.In the Georgia house it was a converted guestroom and now in the Alabama house it is in the room where we would have hidden fleeing refugees if it was needed. To access said sewing room you must go up stairs into my little brother's room, and through his closet. There you will find another door that opens up to a crafter's wonderland. This after thought addition, put on by the previous owners, has shelves following on one wall, a multicolored wood floor, a vaulted ceiling, wire baskets filled with color and theme organized fabrics, and of course her sewing machines. As I was visiting my parents this past week with my kids I stowed away for a couple of hours in this room where my children would never know where to find me. I finished a few little projects I brought with me and did a little shopping too. Thanks Mom. I dream of the day that I can move my sewing machine off the dining room table and leave project pieces out for days undisturbed. Ah, one day. Until them I'll be cutting my skirt pattern with the fabric I shopped from my mother's sewing room.