I start a scarf each time. And knit all winter long. Confident busy hands. Right needle tucks into a loop on the left needle. Lift. Wrap. Retreat. Over and Over. Stopping only for tea.
Settled. Comfortable This whole moment. I like the way it feels. The steadiness. The rhythm. The whispered scrape and click of wooden needles. The sultry in and out of making loops.
Sipping. Lifting. Wrapping. Shifting.
A scraggly line of wooly knots begins to grow wider. Old loop shifts. New loop born. Old. New. In. Out. With every row, the shape I hold changes.
And sometimes when I sit here. My thoughts wander. It’s what they do best. They go up and out and stare back at me. Nestled in between pieces of my past and the here and now. With more curves and creases than I had 20 years ago.
The me of 20 years ago. Reckless. 100 miles an hour down the highway reckless. The me of today. Reckless. Dancing in the kitchen with wild abandon. Teaching my daughter to shimmy and shake, Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” blasting out of the stereo. Cause every girl should be raised knowing how to howl at the moon. Old things shift to make room for new. The rhythm of my life has changed. Motherhood has changed my rhythm. I’ve become stronger, bolder, steady. For my child. For myself. My wild ruckus has become about barefoot joy-stomping and tending hearth and home. Leading a parade for two with a teenaged girl who I must help shift into a woman.
Yes, the rhythm has definitely changed. I’m learning that I kinda like it this way.
This winter I’m trying a new scarf – this one to be exact. As cold as it is this year, I may actually finish this one. There’s also a super lovely and simple crotchet tutorial here on Mama And Baby Love.
What are you working on building this winter?