“Patience”, my grandmother warned me, when after my n-th unsuccessful attempt at pushing the needle through the stitch, wrapping the wool around the needle, drawing the wool in and slipping the old stitch off, I was ready to throw the pair of knitting needles out of the window. “Knitting is a skill you learn for life. You can’t rush it.”
To be honest, she didn’t exactly use those words, but there was no ambiguity in the tone of her voice.
“Patience”, I muttered to myself, while I tried again. And since this is not a story, I did not succeed that time either. But I did, a couple of days later. And a couple of days after that, I was making knit stitches almost effortlessly. Learning to ‘purl’ was much easier than it had been to learn to ‘knit’, and before I knew it, a whole world of patterns had been laid open for me.
And my grandmother was right. Knitting is a skill I never forgot. My tension would remain inconsistent – sometimes my stitches were so tight, I could barely push the needle through, other times they would be so loose, sunlight could stream through the gaps – reflecting my current mood. But there was no pattern I could not tackle, no garment I could not do.
And yet, none of it would have happened had my grandmother not whispered that magic word in my ear- Patience. In life, as in knitting, patience is all we really need. Genuine patience.
Painting - Francoise Duparc (1726-78) Woman Knitting, n.d.