The Story of the Dishcloth

Several years ago my mother organized a group of women together who wanted to learn how to knit. I was one of the attendees as was my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and good friend, Bonnie. Mom had us all meet in the living room and she had a set of yarn, knitting needles, and instructions put together for each of us. We laughed and tried to stay on track as she patiently instructed us in the fine art of knitting. Our goal was to create a dishcloth. I am one who easily becomes frustrated if I can't get a project going easily, so this task was very difficult for me. She helped me over and over again on the fine art of how to slip the yarn over the needles and make a stitch. I was a very poor student, but I remember having such a great time with her that evening. We all left with our unfinished dishcloths in our bags and the instructions on how to finish them. Once home, I placed the packet of directions, needles, and yarn up on the shelf of my closet. It was always there with the intent to pull it down and work on it or ask my mom for help when she came for a visit. I never got around to finishing it and I pulled it down off of the shelf yesterday and, as I'm sure you can imagine, I cried.

I feel a bit like the unfinished dishcloth. My mother has left me with a lifetime of instructions on how to best live my life and she has given me the tools with which to do it. But, as I sit here thinking of her, I feel unfinished and incomplete and I just wish she was here to help me weave all of the pieces back together and to guide me through her list of life's lessons.

I miss you mom.