peculiar momma

Today I am knitting. I’m knitting a scarf for a child in a mistake rib pattern. The yarn is Noro, made in Japan; it transitions from one hue to the next within a single skein, a kaleidoscope of wool. I’ve got two, skeins that is, and every other row I switch, one yarn ball to the other, stripes in mistake rib. The scarf started off in sage greens and velvety purples, deep and rich. Early on I erred - two additional rows of green. Ah well what’s another two rows of purply pink to create new balance? It was still rich and deep - fulfilling. But the green began to fade lighter and lighter then transitioned to an ashen peach. All the while the resonant pink melded into muddy brown and then to harsh black. It was ugly. It was hard to continue. Upon closer inspection, though, there were splashes of pink and yellow, specks of hope woven into lusterless wool. I kept knitting. Soon enough the yarn changed again - peach to yellow and black to green with traces of purple. Vibrancy was returned, hope was renewed and the dullness was countered. I knitted (knat?) faster, wanting to see what came next, forgetting to enjoy what was before me. I forced myself to stop, to savor.

As I knit I noticed the yarn itself had ebbs and flows even within one color. First it was thick and abundant - more yarn than necessary. Then suddenly it changed and became thin and I feared it would break causing me to back track and knit those rows again.

And it occurred to me this scarf was a metaphor for life - sometimes bountiful and ebullient, other times stagnant and meager. And, like life, this scarf was formed with the human touch - it contains mistakes throughout. But, no matter what the place, whether vibrant or dull, an area of mistakes or a perfectly knit row, it is important to stop and inspect, to appreciate and enjoy what is before you.

Today I am knitting - a scarf, for a child, in a mistake rib pattern; a touch of life in wool.