At the end of last year, I finished my very first afghan for two of my newlywed friends. It was *supposed* to be finished last August, to give to them at their wedding in New Hampshire, but it turns out that it takes a loooong time to knit a king-sized afghan blanket.
Patrick's family gives quilts as keepsakes (and so does Jess’s), but in my family it was always knit or (more likely) crocheted afghans. I've always wanted to make one, but I knew it was an investment--in both time & money. Ian & Morgan are worth it, though, and I was so proud to send this to them around Christmastime to keep them warm through the winter.
It took a year or so to knit, and as it got longer & longer, Clementine started nestling into the blanket where it draped over my legs and eventually over the whole couch. After seeing how much she loved it--even when I spread it out on the ground for pictures after it was finished--I decided she needed her own little afghan and knit her a miniature one, too. I may have washed the afghan after snuggles & pictures, but I’m sure Ian & Morgan must have found more than a few errant Clementine hairs.
When I folded their blanket all up for shipping, I thought of the act of making a gift. I thought of knitting yarn--tying knots, over & over--into patterns that are strong and stable, and I thought of making something important out of some few things that, separately, lack meaning. I thought of how it seemed like even my cat acted like something special was happening, thought that something that took that much attention & care must be worth lying down on, feeling safe in. I thought of knitting yarn into a blanket for two people whose love I feel so sure of, and I was glad.
