I Have GG's Hands

I was working an intricate scarf for Wonderboy.  The pattern is my own, but in a stitch that you have to pay attention and look closely at your work. I was watching the yarn go around the needles, off the needles, and turn into a work of art.  At some point the meditation Zen kicked in and I was contently watching my hands.  That’s when I saw GG’s hands.  I have GG’s hands.  

It makes sense. 

GG’s hands were the first to put needles in my hands. I remember playing with yarn and needles when I was little and stayed at her house. Later, when I was an adult, GG would remember times when I was 4 years old.  She said I would wind the yarn “around and around the needle, as close as you could get it, until it got to the top. Then you’d push all of it up and off, “pop!”, watching it twist around and laugh and laugh.”  She was amused every time she told the story. She giggled, saying I would sit for a very long time winding, over and over again. She was delighted that I was so interested and had what she called “The Needlebug”. 

GG’s hands were the first to teach me how to properly hold a set of needles, a crochet hook, a sewing needle, a quilt frame.  GG’s hands were the first to show me how to hold yarn, cast on, bind off,sew a seam, make a test swatch. Although she wasn’t a stickler for gauge, test swatches were plentiful so that you could see the stitches, learn the pattern (then promptly change it to suit your needs), and share the experience.

Over the years, my visits with her always had some sort of needlework going on. If she came to my house, one large bag (or two) was devoted to yarn and something she wanted to show me. If I was at her house, I left with new stitches, patterns, and techniques in my head or written down. We would exchange stories while we knit. I learned about her life, her values, her humor while knitting or crocheting. One of us would cook while the other knit. If we couldn’t knit (like outside in the heat or on the pontoon boat) we would talk about knitting.  

One night, at my house, we stayed up very late. Both of us were so “wound up” about a pattern we were trying to make work. As I mentioned earlier, she taught me how to adapt a pattern to meet my needs. We kept talking in the dark. — If we just changed one thing or another. Maybe we should twist the yarn backwards. What if….— We “didn’t know enough to go to sleep” because we couldn’t stop talking about knitting. Suddenly, we realized we both had our hands in the air trying to imagine the stitches. She started laughing so hard in that laugh that made you unable to keep from laughing yourself. She taught me to laugh at myself.

My hands are older now and have the wrinkles, spots and aches that come with age. They remind me that GG’s hands showed MY hands how to make art, how to love, how to live, how to laugh, how to bind together our lives.