Thursday, January 20, 2011
I recently finished Wisp in a lovely Mongolian Cashmere from Sarah's Yarns. It was my least favourite type of knitting: you had to look at Every Stitch, but there was no charting or colourwork to focus on. Bleegh. Still, the yarn was a tactile delight, and the apparent airiness of this confection is belied by it's delicate warmth.
Off the needles it quickly became my throw on luxury. I had bought the expensive yarn to make something "Amazing" and it sat in the stash. I decided instead to make something "finished" and enjoy the product. And I do, passionately. The cashmere fabric feathers the skin, soothing and warm as a caress. Draped around the head it comforts and quiets the mind. Folded then slung around the neck it gives the warmth of a human touch, without the weight. Laced with a velvet cord and worn over bare shoulders it tantalizes. Thin and light, it protects under a lab coat, making the world seem less threatening. In short...a socially acceptable blankie.
Which means I was wearing it tonight when a friend called to tell me that her remission = merely an intermission.
Holding it fisted in both hands while I tried to say the right things to her I thought of knitting her one. Thought of making it a "prayer shawl" with the stitch pattern in words rather than knitology. But then thought of the time that would take. Overwhelmed by urgency I've decided, instead, to send her this one - knit with mumbled curses, a few swear words and a couple of errors - because she needs it Now, not 3 weeks from now. And because...just as she didn't need "the perfect words"-she only needed to be heard; she doesn't need "the perfect shawl"-she only needs that warming touch.