The Stories We Tell...about Knitting

My grandmother has been a knitter ever since I can remember. We lived 2 hours away from my grandparents so I didn't see them often but when I did spend time with them it was always like being in an exotic land. They lived in Toronto and I lived up north, first near Barrie then outside of Gravenhurst. Both very rural places. When I came to Toronto I came with wide eyes, seeing all the people and cars and buildings. I remember she had a cupboard full of cereal (we got one choice at my house) and she always had Special K. There isn't much exciting about Special K but at her house it tasted like something special.
My mom would drop my brother and I off in the morning and go to the mall BY HERSELF for a few hours. I didn't understand why on earth she'd want to go to the mall anyway and certainly not BY HERSELF.
Now that I have kids I understand.
My grandmother would drive us to meet her at the mall for lunch at Simpsons (maybe Sears? but either way, it was a restaurant with tablecloths) and I remember jello cut in cubes and served with whipped cream. This is the epitome of gourmet when you are 7. Mom usually bought us a new book to share and that felt pretty decadent. We didn't get new things unless it was Christmas or our birthdays.
So, I remember my grandmother was always a knitter. She rotated every Christmas making all us cousins those nordic sweaters everyone had in the 80's with a yoke collar and different coloured patterns circling the yoke. I loved them because I knew somehow it had taken her hours of work to make this sweater and she had made it JUST FOR ME.
I saved a few of the sweaters and my kids wear them now. The Em-ster lives in hers.

A few years ago my grandma gave up knitting. The arthritis in her fingers was getting too bad and she couldn't make the needles do what she wanted them to. I visited her one winter looking for some advice on how to knit socks. I remember her trying to show me how to join the stitches in a round and how hard it was for her.
She gave me a lot of her supplies-old patterns from the 50's, aluminum needles, her stash of wool and a knitting bag. I use these things now and am grateful to have them. I can't afford to spend much money on knitting supplies but somehow what I need always seems to land in my lap.
I feel grateful that I am able to knit and purl and my fingers can work the wool quickly because I know one day maybe I won't be able to anymore. This is the way of things I think. Everything has a season and right now it is my season to knit and my grandmother's season to receive the knitting after so many years of giving it.