Saturday, December 13, 2008

Sweet Knitted Bells


My mom is a knitting genius.  Ever since I can remember, she has had some knitting project going and as one of her daughters I was the recipient of many of those projects.  I didn't appreciate it when I was young, a fact that now makes me sad.  I wish I could go back and retrieve all those sweaters and vests she made for me over those years.  I'd hug them tight and marvel at their construction.  The things I do have, the sweater, the slippers and the afghans, I do treasure and I recognize their worth.  I have these bells she made for me and attached to a Christmas present she sent through the mail.  I hang them on the tree every year as a tribute to my mom.  

Over the years I have finally recognized that my mother did not express love with her words as much as she did with her deeds.  I know that every inch of the yarn she uses goes through her fingers and then is woven into the item she creates.  Knitting is her way of saying all those things she wishes she could but finds difficult to do because of her background and upbringing. 

My creative urges go towards making cookies and writing short essays, things that are gobbled up, and then forgotten.  My mother leaves behind literally hundreds of items that people hold, use, wear and wrap around themselves to keep out the cold.  Because of her eyesight, she rarely, if ever, knits anymore.  I know the knitted items I have now are the only items I will have from her.  So does that mean I box up the beautiful afghan  and never use it?  I am tempted to do so, but, no, I use it.  There is no other blanket like it for making me feel warm.  And on Christmas morning, I will wrap myself up in it, feeling the hug I know is there, and sit with my family by the tree, looking up at the bells my mom made for me.

1 comment:

Happy Homemaker said...

Now Betty, you've gone and got me all teary eyed with this one. Very sweet!