I love knitting. Every time that I sit in my oversized chair and start a ribbing for a sweater, I think of all the people that came before me who also knitted. How many mothers or fathers in the past made a pair of woolen socks? I watch people on YouTube who show their week’s new project, and I am amazed at the beautiful colorwork.

Growing up, I would watch my mother crochet and count stitches. Granny squares were her specialty. When I was seven years old, my mother and I were visiting my Grandma in South Dakota. We were watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone on the Disney Channel. I remember Grandma’s tv had a dial on the side. My mom was crocheting an afghan and I decided to ask her to teach me how to crochet. I made a chain which stretched from wall to wall of Grandma’s living room.

I later learned to double crochet and some very basic crochet stitches, but it never became my specialty. My mother bought me a knitting book for beginners. I was fascinated by the pictures of these young girls making socks or hats. I wished I could be like them, and be proud of what I made.

Starting to knit was not easy. At all. Casting on stitches was sloppy and my knits were too tight. Metal needles would squeak trying to make another row and would cause me stress rather than relieve it. I took a long break from knitting until I was seventeen. Before then, I only did the knit stitch and never finished a project. It was only to keep my hands busy.

At seventeen, I started making a white sweater. I worked on it every day for as long as possible. I learned new lace techniques, but I still didn’t understand gauge or the importance of the yarn type. After a month, I was “almost” done with the project. My mom saw that it was big enough to engulf our coffee table. She asked to try it on. I said it was supposed to be a medium-sized sweater. She put on my project, and it wrapped around her twice. I was infuriated and took it off my needles. I didn’t even “frog” it. It went directly into the garbage.

At age twenty, I finally made a proper garment. It was a Yule present for my friend in California. He gave me his measurements and I started on a brown wool cardigan. Down the back was a lace design of an owl’s face. There was plenty of vocabulary I didn’t understand, and I had to re-do the base of the sweater twice. After eight months, I finally finished this cardigan. I was very proud of it. My mother would show it off to whoever visited our home.

I know now that when making a project, every aspect of that project should be researched. If it isn’t, a mistake could come up. It did in this case. I didn’t learn how to block a garment after washing. I also didn’t study the washing technique or the importance of the skein band’s symbols. I threw the finished cardigan into the washing machine on cold. When it came out, the wool had felted, but I thought it would be fine. I mailed it to my friend and later that week he had texted me a picture of it. I asked him to wear it and take a picture for me. It was two sizes too small. It was almost comical.