I’ve been given a gift...in the form of a profoundly tangled heap of yarn. It wasn’t given to me as a gift. It started as an assignment. Crochet a scarf for my niece, Ava. Simple, right? Not exactly.
Hours of my week have been spent—sometimes delicately, others, furiously pulling and twisting this yarn. I’ve studied it like a mad scientist. I’ve come to know it well.
My revelation: this extraordinarily tangled, stubborn mass of yarn hasn't really required much study. It’s as familiar as the hands I've watched untangle it. It’s me.
There I am in beautiful shades of blue. Tangled by life experience. De-tangled by choice. The knots seem to have a life of their own—a memory. Strands find solace in the curves and bends of others. If for nothing else, to bask in the comfort of familiarity. There are so many moments when all seems lost—twisted and tangled beyond repair. I fight the urge to give up. It’s those moments when suddenly, inevitably, a knot comes loose, unravels like a crumbled up cloth cast out into whipping wind. There's hope.
So, I'll keep pulling and twisting—navigating my way through this treacherously enigmatic, beautiful collection of knots.
When I see my niece wearing her scarf, I'll be sure to thank her.
-Jayme
-Jayme
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