It’s that time of year again for me. College Football Saturdays, fresh apple cider and hot donuts, and fall TV season premieres. Oh, and knitting. For some reason, I tend to pick up the “sticks” (aka knitting needles) and a fresh “batch” of yarn around this time of the year.
This year, instead of sticks I’ve picked up the “hooker.”
Uh … I didn’t say A hooker … I said THE “hooker.” As in a crochet needle.
Geesh. Get your mind out of the gutter.
Crocheting always reminds me of my Grandma Rose. In the years that she lived with us, and for decades after, I can’t recall a time where she didn’t have her crochet needles and ball of yarn inside her bag. She’d pull it out at various times; many times just to keep her hands busy.
Grandma had told me that she picked up crocheting to help with her debilitating arthritis; that it helped loosen her joints, which I can clearly remember looking incredibly swollen and misshapen. While I believe that she took up the craft for that very reason, I also believe that she continued to do so because creating something was incredibly satisfying. (I can’t tell you how many the heirloom tablecloths she made for every one of her children and grandchildren!) That, and the repetitive activity of pulling yarn through slipknot after slipknot was especially soothing.
That’s the reason I’ve enjoyed knitting and crocheting. The simple notion that continuously “picking” or “hooking” or “throwing” yarn over needles to produce a piece of art is calming. It’s a way for me to relieve some stress and yet still feel fulfilled that I’ve actually made something out of a skein of yarn.
Yet, while I love to knit and crochet, I only do so with an end project in mind. Otherwise I’d be making waay too many cup cozies or pot holders than any one of my family and friends would ever need. (Yikes!) So with the recent news within our circle of family/friends, it should come to no surprise as to what kind of project I’m currently working on.
After five years of knitting/crocheting hats & booties or blankets for various family members or friends, you would think that I’d be able to forget about my own issues and focus on the project at hand. And many times I can … In fact doing such projects and keeping such a blog is a very personal form of therapy for me. But there are those moments in the midst of making such creations where my childless situation hits me square in the chest.
But then my thoughts somehow switch to the very good friend of mine; the one that taught me to knit. And I remember how lucky I am in other aspects of my life.
Or, like last Thursday on the bus ride home, I remember my Grandma Rose; who taught me the basics of crocheting years and years ago. I remember each piece she’s ever created especially for me. And how much they mean to me; now even more since her recent passing.
And I remember that what I’m currently making is meant to bring up these emotions. Because feeling such sadness reminds me the importance that Hubby and I had placed on trying to have our own child … and exactly how strong our love is to have survived everything we’ve gone through.
One Reply to “Hook, Line and Sinker”
What a beautiful story. It’s amazing how certain sites, sounds, smells and in your case pastimes can stir up such memories. I am sure your Grandma Rose would find it very special.