Fall 2006
I started the sweater in the fall of 2006, when the air was crisp and the pages of Vogue Knitting felt like possibility in my hand. The yarn was soft, the color just right—something I imagined wearing on a day that hadn’t happened yet. Back then, I believed projects always got finished. But life has a way of setting things down for me. The sweater had many lives before becoming whole. It moved from basket to box, from one home to another. It waited through busy seasons, through ordinary years, through moments when knitting felt like a luxury instead of comfort. I would find it sometimes, needle still sticking in the stitches, as if holding its breath. I’d promise, “soon”, tuck it away again. Twenty years is a long time to carry something unfinished. In 2024 my mother passed. I had taken care of her—sat beside her, tended to her, loved her through the slow, tender unraveling of time. When she was gone, the world shifted in a way I wasn’t prepared for, like a dropped stitch racing b...