The Wedding Throw
Because I can barely think with all of the inhumanity being perpetrated by our government, I’m publishing pieces from my next book, a memoir in essays that covers the period where I leaped off the cliff and ran toward my dream of being an author, consequences be damned!
And damn. Were there ever consequences…
My working title is The Lesbian Housewyfe’s Guide to Surviving Resilience, because standing up again and again takes some surviving.
Click here to start at the beginning!
Upon seeing the bride for the first time, I bled on her.
I didn’t mean to bleed on her. I didn’t even know I was bleeding! Something happened between the car and the hotel front desk. And I opened my arms as my niece walked into the lobby and hugged her hard, so glad to see her and her soon-to-be-husband whose breath swooshed inward so loud I knew something was wrong.
“Did you know you’re bleeding?”
“What?” I held up my hands and backed away. The culprit sneered from my right hand, a bloody pinkie finger. That had just squeezed the bride and touched her so-white-it’s-silvery rehearsal dress.
I snapped away like sheer distance could undo the action. A trace of red marked my mistake on the back of the dress. Maybe neither of them would notice.
“Yup. We need to take care of that.” The groom swooped my niece away to remove the stain while leaving the actual bleeding person stunned in the elegant lobby of the winery hotel. As we checked in, I asked for a bandage, thought about that silvery dress, and knew our wedding gift probably didn’t suit.
Back in February of 2021, my niece’s longtime boyfriend finally proposed. And what do you think my first question was?
What can I knit you for your wedding?
Yep. I’m that aunt. The one who rolls up for the reunion with her knitting bag, who shows up to your concert with a half-knitted sock leg dangling from her purse, who gives all the children in her life knitted hats or mittens or, in one year of crazy effort, sweaters! Then there was the year that I knitted gifts for everyone, including this same niece who laughed and laughed at the gift I knitted for her younger sister, a bright yellow hat with spiky points all over it.
My points of defense:
Most of the college-aged folks that year were wearing crazy hats on the ski slopes.
Yellow was her favorite color.
She’s the only person I know who might take that fashion risk.
Oh well. At least they laughed.
Over the years, I hoped to knit a shawl for one of their weddings, and my time had come! The question filled my lungs and I hoped beyond hope that she would say, “Oh Aunt LA! I’d love for you to knit me an intricate lace shawl! One of the ones you can pull through a wedding ring, knitted from laceweight yarn that will gracefully drape over my shoulders at the reception.”
Yeah, no. No one in this family but me knows what laceweight yarn is. (My wife has heard the term, but only knows it means teeny-tiny.) And a traditional wedding-ring shawl will never suit either of my modern, fashionable nieces.
Still….
I threw the offer out there. After all, I’ve spent more money on yarn than almost anything except books, and knitting gifts makes sense. Asking what I can knit for them gives me a loose guarantee that they will actually enjoy their gift.
Because this lady is going to knit something for her niece for her wedding. No one can stop me.
A throw. She requested a throw. What color? Oh, blue or gray.
A throw.
In Southern California.
My mind began flipping through ideas. And then it came to me.
I’d been wanting to knit up a sock yarn afghan for a while. These afghans use up the scraps from your old sock projects as you knit diamonds into a crazy quilt of memories.
I cast on and began my journey of 326 small squares.
Since tendonitis hovers over my life like a poisonous hummingbird, darting in to send occasional bolts of pain into my hands, wrists, and elbows, my knitting activity must be monitored carefully. One square per day would be manageable. After all, I had 441 days. That gave me 115 more days that I needed for squares. Even budgeting a week for the border, 108 days of buffer remained.
Summer gardening took its toll on my work, and in September, I pruned our completely-out-of-control holly hedge. Only eight squares finished in September out of the thirty I’d hoped for.
October marked the half-way point, and I got back into my square a day cycle. By the turn of the year, I’d settled into a rhythm of one square most evenings and four getting finished on the weekends with knitting sessions in the mornings and evenings.
By the end of March, the squares were complete and the binding added. The piece was blocked and drying on the guest room bed and I stood back to view my triumph.
While prettily colorful in a monotone way, I worried that the brighter tones might not appeal. Nevertheless, I packed it into a box with their very late Christmas gift (popover pans) and a stack of her great-grandmother’s embroidered cloth napkins. A note accompanied the gift, explaining how I’d knit each stitch with the hope of a long life together, interwoven with love.
Despite the initial catastrophe, the rest of the weekend carried on pretty smoothly for a major event. I kept my distance from the bride, unwilling to trust the bandage to completely do its job. Most of the familial tempers stayed controlled, friends partied late into the evening each night, and by Sunday morning, hangovers ruled the majority of heads as people packed their bags. On Sunday afternoon, we arrived at the newly married couple’s home, and in a quick tour, I spotted the throw crumpled on their bed like they’d slept under it on their last unmarried night in their house.
I won’t deny it. I felt so proud. I do like giving a throw. Whether the couple likes it or not, it usually ends up being useful as a layer on cold evenings and rarely gets given to Goodwill.
As we sat and chatted for a few minutes while waiting to go to the hotel, the new husband asked me if it had taken a long time to knit the piece. “Yes,” I replied as I completed knitting a pair of socks. “I worked on it for a long time.”
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It’s a beautiful throw!