Updated: Jul 19
I no longer want to change my past or my life.
This blanket that's been knitted now brings me comfort.
Even when others added asymmetrical lines.
Even when the thread wasn't of my own choosing.
Even when making it made my hands bleed and my eyes tear.
The blanket may have colors that don't match.
There's no rhyme to its reason.
But I claim it nonetheless.
It's not meant to be displayed, it's meant to be used.
Curling up under it during a rainstorm.
Wrapped around children of my own.
There was a time I hated it.
When touching it felt like spurs.
When I longed for anything, everything, other than this one.
But time & intention made it soft.
But use & care made it safe.
I see others' blankets that don't cover both shoulders and feet.
I see others knitting until knuckles are raw.
I know the ill-fitting pain of it, I know the confident comfort of it too.
So no, I don't long for a different one.
It is mine.
It is seen and it is loved.