I've enjoyed writing poetry for a long time. I can generally only write about something that I hold close to my heart and crochet is something I hold close to my heart! I take a lot of pride in what I make and always hope that who ever gets it thoroughly loves it, regardless of wether it was a given gift or an item purchased.
So many times I hear or read about the sad story of someone who spent a lot of time making a gift only to be told how cheap they were or that they didn't give a "real" gift. This poem expresses my thoughts on that! The story about my love for handmade items goes much deeper then that, however.
I was adopted at the age of four into a family that happened to have a woman in it who made the most beautiful crochet. I would sit and watch her crochet a blanket for hours and when my sister and I were adopted, we were both gifted a twin sized afghan for our beds made with tons of circle turned square squares. They were beautiful and they were warm. We used them on our beds for the longest time. Those blankest were the only handmade gift we were ever given as our (my sister and I's) relationship with the woman who made them grew more tense (not to mention carpal tunnel syndrome!).
Watching this lady crochet inspired me to learn and it was a rocky journey before I really picked it up and continued it. Around 14 I finished a pillow, just a small square one. After that, the next project I finished that was a decent sized project was right after I turned 18. I had been working very hard on a blanket for my daughter from the day I found out I was having a little girl to just days before she was born. After that, there was no stopping me and I vowed I would make her anything her little heart wanted!
Today that little girl is three and she models many of my designs. Every time she sees me making something she asks if it is for her and a lot of the time, I tell her it is and give it to her! It warms my heart so much to know my three year old loves the things I make. They are special and if there comes a day she no longer has me... she will have those bits and pieces of me.
My grandmother's mother was another crafty lady in the family though I never got to meet her. Her blankets adorned my grandmother's house and my dad still has a blanket she made him! In my bedroom hanging from a small mirror my grandmother gave me, are three of the crochet bead rope necklaces this woman made. They are special. They are a piece of her and I will share them with my own daughter then she is old enough to understand because meeting the woman doesn't change how unique and special the items she made are.