When I asked if people had a hand knitted blanket that I could borrow, I couldn’t believe the response. Everyone from such diverse backgrounds had one. Some were treasured keepsakes. Others, were generational hand me downs. The blankets that I collected were as diverse as the people that loaned them to me. I remember my granny knitting. In fact, it is one of my most vivid memories of her. Even when she lost most of her eye sight she still managed to knit. When I was a kid, I would ask her to teach me. I was never able to do it right in her eyes. The tension wasn’t even, or I dropped a stitch at the wrong time. I remember her unraveling my hours of work in order to fix the error. Eventually, I lost interest. Now, I wish I could engulf myself in the memory of sitting side by side with granny doing what she loved. So, for now, I will just bury myself in the memories.