A Stitch In Time

Have I ever mentioned that Susan crochets? No, I don’t suppose I have since in fact she really hasn’t crocheted in perhaps a decade or more, although reminders of her hobby were always everywhere in her home (when there was a home). I might even suggest that the crocheted handiwork of Susan ostentatiously enveloped the family house creating a sort of constant reminder of Susan’s matriarchal reign. She was Queen and this was her castle, no doubt. Susan’s grandiose style was evidenced in every aspect of her decorating attempts. The intense red carpet met red velvet curtains in a way no other home could have pulled off. Peering gregariously from beneath each panel of velvet hung the crocheted window liners. They hung in half-guarded fashion as they attempted to camouflaged each and every view of the out-of-doors. Meanwhile, beautifully crocheted tablecloths and bed covers merged alongside hand crochet doilies of every sort and color and spanned from one end of the house to the other. Those were the days when Susan was in charge and in an odd way, I’ve missed them.

So, this past year and a half, in our desire to help Susan rediscover her old self, it was natural to find ourselves half-joking about the prospect of her crocheting again. Several times we discussed going to our local hobby store and purchasing the supplies. The thought disinterested her. I suppose she secretly felt as I did: suppose she couldn’t do it? Not knowing for sure that that part of her was lost seemed better then knowing it was. But something inside kept nagging me. I had observed that Susan’s “old memories” seemed natural to her, like when her unsure hands began moving confidently upon finding themselves in familiar territory, like her garden. Digging weeds, watering and feeding plants, cropping dead growth and replanting starts all brought out the once familiar confident Susan. She revisited her old self there in the garden; so I wondered if perhaps the same might be true with her crochet.

Realizing the risk was rather small we eventually just went for it. At the store we contemplated needles and threads for half an hour until finally agreeing on four spools of bright thread and several needles to help her find her way. She seemed a bit unsure of her needle size, but giving her choices to hold and mess with seemed the best way to kick-start her brain. Displayed in a pretty basket, I put them beside her chair again and again the following days as she pushed them away repeatedly. Day after day I watched and hoped that she might just pick them up and find her groove. She didn’t. Days past with no attempts to crochet.

No attempts, that is, until tonight when Kiara came to spend the afternoon with us. I think it was Kiara’s desire to connect with her grandmother, mixed with her admiration for the incredible gift Susan once had to create such beautiful things, that peaked her desire to get Grandma crocheting. I believe these skills and know-how’s should not be lost with any generation who possesses them, rather they should be passed down from generation to generation in every family. Every generation of boys in this family knows how to fish with a cast net. Now lets work on the girls.

And so they began with Kiara encouraging Grandma Susan to teach. It seems the role gave her a sense of importance and purpose; it was obvious that she was comfortable with the whole 'being in charge' thing. For about the next half hour Susan was busy with her hands, but sadly her brain seemed to be struggling. All the while Kiara sat beside her looking on with concern, but continued encouraging and questioning her grandmother. Susan kept on and soon her hands began to catch on and her mouth began to chatter. She was passing on instructions and crochet hints to Kiara. Eventually Kiara and Susan sat side-by-side crocheting while Victoria looked on. Each time I passed by, Susan seemed more confident and Kiara seemed more enthralled. Two threads began to form two circles, Susan’s and Kiara’s, as they crocheted side by side.

In the same way that the thread in her hand was becoming something identifiable, so Susan was transforming into something- stitch by stitch. She was crocheting life force into her very being, causing her to talk faster and more confidently about the next move the needles would make and the patterns that would eventually follow. Suddenly she was telling Kiara a story about crocheting as a young girl in the Philippines and how she would crochet to keep herself from thinking about how hungry she was. Wow! We never knew that.


And when restless Victoria began to wiggle and romp about the crochet circle, Susan was all business, “ Get out of here! We’re crocheting here!” she scolded with importance. She had something to do! Finally- something important to do! Something that others need to look out for and be careful of! Something of her own! Something she knows! She is in charge of her needle and the thread is knotting and moving as she directs it to. Once again, she is the designer and the needle and thread she is holding are her subjects. Kiara and Victoria are her students and her enthralled audience. She sees me snapping pictures of this awe-inspiring moment in her life. This is important stuff! The energy in this room is suddenly light and relieved as Susan breaks through with her hands and her brain. It is obvious that she is as relieved as the rest of us that she can do it! Yes, Susan is crocheting!