During the past few weeks, as Stephanie has been having her cataract surgeries (flying colors, by the way!), I have been knitting a little more each day.
However, over the weekend, I pushed myself a little too much and my hands rebelled. The tendonitis threw up a flare of pain. I immediately stopped knitting and relaxed like a lump for the rest of the evening.
Even on a day like today, with the blue sky and the sun fulfilling its duty, with the thousand shades of spring green leaves and the pink tree branches…
A few stitches before you begin writing; a suggestion just appears in my mind.
Maybe a stripe at lunchtime, the shawl beckons.
After dinner, an evening of stitches! Soft yarn sings, cuddled into my tote next to my chair.
But no. A new rhythm has entered my knitting life.
With my limited ability to knit, each stitch is savored. The process of creating Stephanie’s Color Affection shawl has become a meditation. I study the yarn, which has a tendency to split (made worse by Dolce who can’t seem to stay out of my tote). I hold up the shawl at the end of each row and admire the contrast of the colors. I marvel at the even stitches.
As I continue to recover, this new melody dominates. My hands refuse production and make me focus on the process. I consider the colors Stephanie chose all those months ago back in Austin and how they mirror the blooms and the leaves on my morning dog walks.
After a few moments, I lose sight though. I slip back into the old rhythm. I knit mindlessly. My hands begin to burn.
Reminding me to stop. To care for them. To caress my thumbs with therapeutic creams and switch activities. To end the rush and the production and the call of the piece to be done and wrapped around my love.
To look around and notice the song of spring surrounding me.
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