Of love, loss and socks

I have lost the urge to knit.  Normally my hands and brain seek out that rythmic calm movement.  But not recently.  I think it is the socks.  I started them as we do all knit projects with high hopes.  An elegant pattern, Irish Oats and a very simple natural yarn.  I started the socks on a dream trip to the southwest with Rachel.  All the wonder of Monument Valley and Canyon de Chelly and especially my joy of a week with dear daughter knit and cabled together.

  They languished on the needles, got lost during our move and surfaced in December.  Back to knitting during meetings and car rides.  These socks have a lot of miles on them.  Not the literal miles to Arizona but all the miles my heart traveled in the knitting.

  

 When my sister fell at my house on Christmas Eve and was airlifted to Chapel Hill along came the socks.  Stitches knit through three weeks of waiting, worrying, praying and crying.  One sock done, the second well on it's way.  A few stitches knit as we  sat with Janet during our last moments together.

When I drove to Florida to celebrate Janet's memory with her close friends the faithful socks came along but they stayed in the bag.  They are still in that bag.  They might have to stay there.  It feels like the weight of the world is in those socks.  I love them, I hate them.  I want to hold them close and not let go. But no I do not want to finish them.