I remembered a conversation I had with my son Matthew the over Easter weekend and I knew exactly what my K word would be.
My "K" word is knitting.
My cousins came up for Easter from Charlotte, my son was here from Richmond and my daughter, son in law and three boys were here from Richmond as well. One of the nights with all six kids sleeping in beds, blow up beds, sofas and sleeper sofas I had to pull out all types of sheets, pillows and blankets including one of the home made afghans Nana made.
|Nana & Matthew|
The next morning I asked Matthew whether that particular afghan was his or his brother Eric's since Nana made one for every grandchild and great grandchild; he couldn't remember. He told me he'd have to see Eric's and compare to remember which was his.
After company left I was putting the house back in order and as I reached the top step of the staircase I glanced at the bookshelf and my answer was staring back at me in a frame. It was Matthews for sure!
I got my afgan when I was about the same age as Matthew was in this picture. So as you can imagine it is well loved. It was also knitted unlike Matthew's which as you can see was crocheted.
I went upstairs earlier today and gingerly pulled mine out of the bag I store it in. The word threadbare came to mind since it has thinned it has more than a few holes and the lining that Nana so lovingly attached has long since been removed due to wear.
I remember the day she laid all of her yard out on the bed and had me pick my color choices then we rolled and rolled up skeins and skeins of yarn so she could begin her knitting.
Here's my 50 year old knitted afghan.