She finally found a destination for the granny squares she had inherited from her mom.
She remembered, as a child, her mom went with some neighbors to a factory store of a textile plant in town. They were selling yarn by the pound, with slightly imperfections. Her mom came back home with a ton of yarn\, some weird colors and black. She was going to make a queen size bedspread.
A queen size bedspread of granny squares is something that takes an eternity. Her mom didn’t have that type of time. She taught crochet to all children and put them to the task of helping her. A bunch of 4” x 4” squares started being produced. The central square in black, around it shock pink, another round of black, highlighter yellow after that, black, another round of shock pink, finishing with black. If it was today, she would say a 3-ply yarn. Each square took forever.
If she made a mistake, her mom would unravel and make her do it again.
All of them making granny squares, nevertheless a queen size bed spread is something of a mammoth task. Even with all the help, how could they do it?
It was to cover her mom’s bed. She remembered all the children jumping on that bed Sunday mornings, chatting with her parents. Her mom would stand up and go to the kitchen to fix breakfast and get things ready to go to church. Dad would tell them jokes and make tricks. The bed was the largest full-size bed in the world. Mom, dad and all 5 children would fit at once. The world was perfect then. No need for colorful bedspreads.
Maybe they started the bed spread after her father had passed away and they had to move to a smaller house.
She closed her eyes and saw the children, now 7, going to dad’s bed on Sunday mornings, and then every morning at end. His skin dried and itching. They had to brush the flaky skin and then plaster him in moisturizer, to give him some relief. Her mom was away, taking care of other things. There wasn’t going to be church for awhile.
Back then, she didn’t know why her mom had that fever of making the bed spread. And those colors! Who would think about combining them together?
The granny squares started to accumulate. There was never enough squares. Her mom never started assembling them together.
The children were growing, leaving the house. Her mom held on to those squares. There wasn’t enough for a bed spread yet, but the remaining yarn found its way into other projects. The black was used first, because it was the more acceptable of the lot. The pink became receiving blankets, the yellow made baby booties, hats, mittens. There were scarves made. Her mom moved to different places, each one smaller and more lonely. The squares moved with her. At some point she started putting together the squares. There wasn’t enough left for a bed spread. Not even a twin size.
When her mom passed away she inherited the granny squares. All she could get was two pillows. One square 4x4 and one rectangular 3x4. Not even two pillows of the same size. Life is a bitch.
She now knows... Her mom on that craziness of granny squares and that infinite project.
She too now let her pain get entangled in the fabric of knits and purls. Bags with unfinished projects abound in her house.
Counting the stitches numbs the running thoughts. She had enough pillows, anyway. Let's not waste the fabric and the fillings. And the feelings.
She goes on estate sales in search of other granny squares left behind. Other unfinished projects that started to placate who knows what sorrows. She puts them together with her mom’s squares.
When she dies, maybe there will be enough for a bed spread.
