>My fellow knitters far along. I promess to writte in English so I will. Unfortunatelly this is not a very good day to talk about. Everything was messed up to a point where I simply want to go to bed an wait to the day finishes.
It all began in the early morning, 10 am. (Yes, that is early morning for me… jejeje). The bed simply push me out the blankets. It was the rush, the anxiety. I knew, since I went to bed the night before, that my mom will come to see me. I was nervous. Nervous to the point of not enjoy sleeping.
Don’t misunderstand me: I love my mom. She is one incredible woman. If you talk to her 15 minutes, you learn something. And she knows everyhting you want to learn about Theology, and Philosofy. But we… just don’t mix well. So al the time between knowing she will come, and the moment she actually arrives… is just a bad recall of the last visit, and how bad it went. Im pridsposed, and I can’t help it. History taught me not to.
You might be wondering, if this is sooooo terrible, why do you still see her? Well, she is my mom. She taught me to create beatiful things with my hands. She show me my first access to Philosofy, and -most of all- she saved my leg when I burn it to the bone. So, I love her. And she is old. And I want to suck her up so I can be some day as intelligent as she is. How not to love her? She is so beautifull and wise…
So, she came. And all those things I’ve been afraid of became truth, one by one. It is so… frustrating that I couldn’t enjoy the few kind words that she manage to say.
When she leaved I went to the refugy arround the corner. All the knitters were there. I wasn’t going to tell them all this, but it was all over my face and they know better. And this people, who saw me for the first time just a week ago, cheer me up in the most beautifull and sincere way: Trae tu tejido y cuéntanos.
I couldn’t went to my house and actually bring my knitting bag, it was late and I have to feed my family. But that 10 minutes in the company of all my new knitting friends, the yarns in the shelves, the sound of the needles knitting a sweater, a bikini, a shrug… It was soothing. It was like a big, warm, soft apapacho. Like a big cup of chocolate at the precise temperature and swettness. It was perfect.
The cherry on the top: in my other refugy, the virtual one, my other knitters friends were struggling with the dictionary to undestand my spanish posts. Another big hug.
So it must be truth: knitting is a Zen exercise. Stitch by stitch you create a paralel universe, where any kind of mistakes can be fixed and brings you the oportunitty to create again.