You start out knitting for yourself.
From the needles comes a scarf,
someday a sweater.
From your own hands , and the clacking of metal on metal comes warmth to get you through a thousand winters.
It's independence , self sufficiency.
You can stand alone.
Then you discover it.
The joy of knitting for another.
With skill and time
comes a gift.
Something to ease grief, or welcome one into the world,
Something that celebrates or mourns or both.
Something to soften and warm and brighten,
in those long winter months ahead.
Each stitch, a prayer.
The wool moving through your fingers like beads of the rosary.
Holy and sacred. Giving life and goodness.
You started out alone,
and you needed to. Learning to stand on you're own is all a part of it.
But the next part, is watching something you created, something you labored over, something you touched and admired
move from your hands,
into those of another.