Lala brought something home from work for me yesterday.
A blanket. Made for me by readers who love me. Started for me when Mom died.
It's one of the most perfect, gorgeous presents I've ever received. I am completely undone by it. (Look, above, see how (formerly) no-blog Rachel and Dani made identical trees of life? They're on either side of Lyssa's heart, which is below Celia's winged hearts, which is flanked by Jove's stripes. Wait. Let me take a minute. I just really looked at Celia's. It's four hearts, with the winged one above. Dad, me and my sisters each have a heart below. That just broke my heart in the good way.)
I could go on and on, but my fingers would break, looking up the linkages. Trust me that there are stripes, and hearts, and a turtle, and Digit's paws. There is a lovely square Michelle made on the first anniversary of her mother's death. There is lace inspired by something I made once, and five squares, one for each of Mom's family, knit in my small hometown by someone I've never met.
Darling, talented Krista of KnitDelaware was the drive behind this. I can't imagine the hours she put into sewing these all together, and she did a gorgeous job. I love the black — nothing else would have tied all these squares together.
Please don't feel badly if you didn't know about this blanket. I think what put me over the edge last night as I touched every square was how many people's names I didn't recognize right off the bat. They weren't all the usual suspects. Krista just emailed a random sampling of commenters, asking if they'd like to contribute, and she said the envelopes came flying in. This was amazing to me. And so many of them came with cards, and notes, little descriptions of which square was whose (which wasn't necessary: Krista did such a lovely job with the square map she sent along with it, but I love the descriptions sent — colors, yarn samples, sketches, reasons why the knitter chose the yarn she did).
It is one of my most prized possessions. It will be years before a cat will be allowed to settle on it. If ever. One tried, earlier. No way. Miss Idaho eyed it covetously. No. It is on my reading chair in my writing room, and I draped it over my lap this morning as I wrote.
I have never touched anything that was made with more love. I am verklempt.
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