My mother-in-law passed away over the weekend. I will always remember her hands in a blur of motion as she crocheted. She was constantly making something out of yarn—a hat, scarf, baby blanket—for someone.
Her spirit will forever be with us because of the beautiful wedding afghan she lovingly made for me and Fred. As I remember, it was a pattern she’d never crocheted before so it provided some challenges. She had asked me what kind of afghan I’d like, and we looked at patterns together. She was bound and determined that she would make the one I liked.
Over the years, the afghan has provided comfort in our home. Sometimes we’ve argued over who got to keep warm under the thick yarn. The afghan kept Fred warm while recovering from surgeries, and it kept me warm as I went through my surgeries and chemo. Michaela loved it so much as a child that she wanted to sneak it off to college with her.
But the one who seems to win most arguments over the afghan, and is most possessive of it, is Bella. She acts as if it were crocheted just for her. Perhaps she just has a sense of the love that saturates the fibers of the afghan.