My Granddaughter arrived early in the morning on the 3rd of January, tiny, perfect and wide awake.
When I met her in the recovery room she wore nothing but a donated acrylic pink beanie with rows of purple muppet fur, my daughter said it's ok Mum, when we get back to the room we will put wool on her!...and so we did.
here she is 3 days later in her Zealana Willow blanket ( bassinet version of Life out Loud) which is soft, warm and cosy, she was playing pass the parcel at our regular family dinner on sunday and didn't even blink.
Yesterday my son in law handed me a shopping bag of yarn, needles and partially knitted pieces, it was a bag I have been waiting for since cancer stole his Mum three months ago. I met Moira once, I told her we would look after her son, and I would finish her knitting.
I upended the bag and wanted to sigh, once again here was a pile of acrylic and pompom yarn, the beginnings of a blanket, a couple of sleeves, a cute old bootee she obviously wanted to copy. I mentally hit myself...this wonderful, kind woman is gone and I'm questioning her yarn choices? get a grip Justine. I imagine if we had been able to spend time together we would both have learnt a lot, I'm the one who got to see our baby newborn and will watch her as she grows, and I'm the one who will teach her to knit and give her Grandma Moira's needles.
I will finish her blanket and stitch a note to the back of it. I will decipher the bootee and make some for winter and I will make a playmat with the pink pompoms because I know Moira would like that. I have learnt my lesson, its not about budget or taste or knowledge, its not about yarn or pattern choices, sometimes its just about the knitting, because knitting is a physical manifestation of love.