Yellow blanket

I learned to knit when I was very young. In fact, I've been doing it for so long that I can hardly remember how old I was when I actually learned. My mother taught me to knit and her mother before her. In fact, my grandma was so avid a knitter that her knitting abilities are almost interwoven into all of my memories of her. To think of her is to think of her afghans, slippers, pillows, dish cloths, and many more hand made, knitted items. I have so many sweet treasures in my heart of my grandmother. I will honestly say though, that I believe my love of knitting is a trait I have been blessed to inherit from her. My grandma died two years ago on my anniversary. It is impossible for me to pick up some knitting needles without thinking of her. When she died, I was blessed to be given so many of her knitting treasures. Needles, yarn, pins, patterns, and on and on.

I found it completely accidentally. I was looking through a bag of a mixture of different colors and types of yarn I had been given from my mother who thought I might be able to use it since I love to knit. The yarn had been my grandma's before she passed away. I was sorting through what I thought I could use to create with and what I could use for crafts with the kids when I found a plastic bag. Inside was a skein of yellow yarn and a treasure that have been knitted. It was too big to be a scarf or a washcloth, and too small to be intended as an adult sized afghan. The stitches were imperfect. There were dropped stitches and some errors. As I picked it up in my hands...I could smell her. I knew in my heart it had been knitted by my grandmother.

I called my mom to be certain. She hardly remembered it at all, but she said towards the end of my grandma's life, she had given my grandma knitting projects to do to keep her busy. This, it turns out, was one of those projects.

I found this beautiful treasure of my grandmother's work shortly before my sister gave birth to her second child. I got into my head that maybe I could complete this little "afghan" and give it to my soon to be born nephew as a gift from his great grandmother. So one day, I set about the task. This was the first time my fingers had been so blessed to knit an item after my grandmother's had already been there. I lovingly took up where she left off. With every stitch I have thought of her sitting on her sofa knitting away. I have thought of my nephew, snuggled up underneath it. I have thought about whether to fix the imperfections or leave them. I decided to leave them. Not because I wanted to embarrass her or show any flaws. But because to remove them meant to replace the work she had done. This very well may be the last item my grandmother ever knitted. To me, each of those stitches (flawed or not), are beautiful and wonderful. They are also emotional.

Tonight, I have almost completed this afghan. Here I sit with the final stitch on the needle. I have yet to remove it, because in removing it, that means it's completed. Her work has been finished. I miss her. I miss her laugh. I miss her books on tape. I miss her black shoes and white socks. I miss her hair appointments. I miss "tut tut". I miss her smell.

So here I go. I am ready to complete it. One, two, three. It's done.

I wish you were here to see it.