I have been so lucky this week to knit with friends (and cats) for three afternoons in a row. After swim team, chores, extra chores, and errands, we have been able to sit in my sitting room with some relaxing tea and spend a few hours doing something we all love to do with each other--slipping stitches and bits of conversation in between the hard parts.
I'll take my socks to the pool this morning. I predict a small crowd of children to gather around me as a I work. Yesterday, one 7-year-old boy was amazed that I could knit socks. I let him try them on his foot, and he said, "These feel soooo good." I said in return, "That is one reason why I make them."
One mom who does not knit remarked that she didn't know anyone made socks by hand any more. "That is really a lost art, isn't it?" she said.
Lost art? Not really. Not if you take a look at all of the knitting blogs. No, I don't have to knit socks. I can buy them in multitudes for dollars. But there will only be one pair of socks like my socks with their hidden mistakes and interwoven memories of making them with friends.
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