My maternal grandmother taught me now to knit and crochet. She created many items from scratch, years ago, that you see in the stores today, like crocheted towel hangers, flowers, mail holders, etc. Let’s just say she was very creative. I have that hands on creative spirit she possessed. Not my sister or brother, me.
(This is Little Drake a year ago) I watched her spend her whole summer knitting, arranging and attaching this full-size granny square spread for her bed. This is the most amazing thing; she used all the colors of the rainbow for it, and you simply cannot discern a pattern from throughout the whole thing. Amazing. What’s more amazing is that I now have this spread on my own bed, or rather hers; because I now have her bedroom set, as well. How lucky can a girl get?…. Though I do not think of her having sex in it…. ugh, was that necessary? Yes. I mean, we all think of stuff like this and blogs are our written thoughts. You can’t just delete or erase your thoughts. I definitely digress, however.
I often think about how similar I really am to my grandmother… or my memories of her as she is gone from this world now. You see, I never had a really good relationship with her. We always clashed. I could attribute this to the fact that gemini’s (me) and Pisces (her) simply get along as well as vinegar and water. I grieve for her still, but more for the relationship that we never had. She taught me all the creative things that I know how to do. She also made satin ribbon roses from scratch. Not those pathetic ones they sell in the stores now, flat as the flattest pancake. Not only did we make the roses, but we made the stems, too, and the leaves. We made realistic roses…. beautiful. We put them on gift packages. She taught me how to cook as well…. to bake is more like it. I was the one who helped her knead the dough for all the Italian pastries, cookies, cakes and whatever.
I watched her painstakingly and lovingly practice her crafts. Whatever she did, she did with love and creativity. I can remember her pulling out layette sets from her closet or from under her bed when we heard of someone expecting a baby. She made them for everyone, well, except me because I did not even have a man by the time she died. When my dad sold the house, we found all her knitting stuff. He was going to throw out everything and I could not bear it, so I took everything. Unfortunately, by the time I got to go through it all, I was in a cleaning frenzy and threw out all the partially made layette sets, including hats, booties, jacket, and in some cases, tiny mitts. At the time, I was not knitting and had no idea how to put her treasures together, to finish them. Soon after, I found out that I was pregnant. I cannot help but feel that she was revealing them to me for my own baby. What a total washout that was, I was.
If I ever have a daughter, I will name her Mary Rose for my grandmother and the roses we made; and to honor her inspiration in me.