No. I seriously do. LOVE knitting.
I was working on the red and green hat in the earlier hours of the morning today, and I was thinking about things, and life, and the things I hated about what happened to my life, and I did take a minute. Widows and widowers do not stop grieving ever. It is like waves on a shoreline. Grief is always out there ebbing and flowing as the water of life crashes to the shore. It happens less often than in the first days, but the intensity of it remains the same. That certain sorrow is part of who I am and who I will ever be. It colours my way of seeing the world that is not possible to understand unless you lived it. But then, as things are wont to do, sorrow ebbs and I find, what pops into my head is 'Where would I be without my knitting?'
Because honestly, I cannot fathom my world without it. It remains my rock, my best support and my happy place.
It is sort of like that coffee meme, 'Coffee doesn't ask silly questions. Coffee understands' Knitting doesn't ask silly questions. It understands. It sits there, quite politely till you are ready for it and then it shows up whole heartedly and performs the most amazing things, almost without thought at all. Until it decides to go walkabout and make you take leave of your senses of course, but that really isn't the point of it all. Thing is, it is just there when you are ready for it, and if you love it and respect it, it will shower warmth and joy, and challenges and pleasure and endless delight on you.
It doesn't matter if I am knitting sweaters, or socks, or using up yarn bits making hats to ride along with me in my car. Just so long as I am knitting, things are fine. Or good enough as the case may be. And that is how knitting goes at my house.
Knitting Understands.
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