I found this the other day. I wrote it for an english creative writing class :) Thought I’d share.
Beads of sweat are rolling off my brow. The very fate of the world could rest upon this choice and the clock is ticking down the seconds. I try to steady my shaking hands as I reach into the jumble of colors strewn in front of me. Red, green, blue? It’s got to be the red one… but it’s always the red one… The clock seems to get faster and faster. 10. 9. 8… My heart beats so hard I feel it in my throat… 184.108.40.206… Make a decision! There’s no more time! 3…2…1…!
“Excuse me, ma’am, but we’re closing the store now.”
I look up at the saleswoman like a half-crazed animal, up to my elbows in the discount yarn bin. She backs away as I draw my arm out of the irresistible sea of half-priced fibers, fist clamped around a beautiful cotton/wool blend the exact hues of aging copper and hold it high above my head. This will do.
A knitted sweater can consist of thousands of stitches, and I love knowing that I put every single one in there. And THEN I sewed it together. By hand. Do I love it because I’m power hungry and I like lording my superiority over others? Maybe. But mostly I just like to knit. When I am not knitting I feel like part of me is missing. I think it’s the yarn part of me.
But seriously, knitting is pretty bad-ass when you think about it. We’re talking two pointy sticks, made of wood or metal, with which you could put out your own eyes and/or the eyes of anyone who travels within a ten foot radius. Hours of work can be lost in the time it takes the dog to decide that your project would make the perfect tug toy and proceed to drag it to the backyard where she whips it around in the primal “neck snapping” motion, then promptly digs a hole and covers it with muddy earth. Maybe it’s for the best when that happens. At least the project gets a decent burial. Because you know I’m not going to unravel that crap, wash it, and then knit it again just to salvage a purchase. That’s what the discount yarn bins are for.
Some days are more interesting than others. Like the days when I throw the knitting across the room because I’ve screwed up the pattern for the tenth time that hour and have to go back three rows AGAIN. That’s when I decide the project is out to get me. There are little demons lying in wait inside some patterns that cause you to do the most awful things. Like missing a vital stitch twenty-seven rows back, but it’s totally obvious and there’s no way you could pass it off as, “Yeah it was part of the pattern, weird huh,” because you were (totally paying attention, but) watching The Lord of the Rings for the billionth time. I love those movies.
But in the end, even after hours of cursing at the blob of yarn on the needles and banishing it to the spot behind the couch for a week, nothing compares to the feeling of finally wearing my hand-knit garment. In reality, not all projects are filled with cursing and shots of tequila.
Eat. KNIT. Run. Blog.