Written by Michaela MacBlake Matthews
You are home on a day off and miraculously… there are no errands left to be run. It’s only 2pm, the sun is shining warmly through the windows in your kitchen and you sip on today’s beverage of choice. A deep breath falls effortlessly into the deepest most neglected corners of your lungs. ‘Yes.’ you think, ‘This is a great day for a little R&R. I’ve earned it.’
You walk over to your colorful stash of yarn and pick up a project you’ve been working on lately. Just between you and the materials, you’ve neglected it a bit lately- and the lulls of a daydreaming state that flood in with crafting too. But it’s okay, you’re here now, and you start to loop and weave through the pattern. As the second row melts into the third, you begin to think to yourself about the yarn in hand. You knew when you purchased the yarn it was made from recycled materials and supporting a good cause, but as you’re working with it, a particular shade of cerulean jumps out at you from amongst the strands. ‘What a beautiful shade…’ you think, ‘That must’ve been one gorgeous dress it came from.’
You weave on, with faint images of exotic sari dresses flowing across the peripherals of your stitches… And then a girl appears. A young woman, 30 years old at the most, tearing and working with fibers of all sorts of blues. Her expression is diligent, but at ease. She then moves on to the purples and then the greens. As you knit on, she weaves the silks into yarn, all from the other side of the world.
Time slips into your pattern, as it has so many times before, and the light begins to shift across the room. By now, you’re at such a natural pace that the rhythm is soothing… and your imagined companion is, too. You begin to envision yourself knitting from one very long strand of yarn, running all the way back to her workspace in India, and you whimsically pretend that each tiny tug or snag is simply a skyscraper between the two of you, getting in the way of your girl-time.
The light begins to fade, the project is coming along nicely, and you decide it’s time to start on dinner. She agrees, and as you start back toward the kitchen, she begins to walk home, knowing that the market will be open on the way.
She gets her groceries and arrives home, with a sense of peace, knowing that she is gainfully employed, and that her daughter will be fed well. She won’t be too hungry to focus in school, and her mother is now able to relax, and savor the rich flavors as they eat. She used to sacrifice her portions for her daughter’s sake, to help her grow. But now, they both eat, and there is still some left for lunch.
You pause, taking a moment to be grateful for the groceries in your own refrigerator before having your first bite. You wonder if you could turn off the auto-pilot, and savor the riches of flavor as she does… And somehow, this old familiar recipe tastes better than it ever has before.