It struck me today, as I looked at this particular image of one of my projects from this year, that it was the simple edge on this floor mat that sucked me back into crocheting on a regular basis.
It was just one piece of this pattern – the trim around the much larger body of the mat – but I’d never done this combination of stitches before and the feel of it…the contrast with the other rows…the rich brown against the white – it was a delight to work on it and watch the mat really come to life (so to speak).
My mother first showed me how to crochet when I was 9 or 10. I remember her hands guiding mine as I struggled to create my first chain of loops. I’m sure that was all I created for quite some time. Long strands of little loops. I probably tied them into bracelets and proudly displayed my “handiwork” to my grandparents.
From there, I graduated to small pot holders and tiny blankets for my dolls. I loved the flow of the yarn around the hook and watching one color of yarn weave in and out of another.
Then there was a long break. We moved, then high school, college and eventually marriage. But something made me pick up a hook again. I had only one and I knew only one stitch so I just made afghans. Lots of very large, very unusually colored, afghans. (My mother, bless her heart, still has a very bright green and white striped one I made during that phase.)
Another break – children, more moving, and a hectic career. It had been years, again, since I’d done anything but a trip home to visit my parents and I had this urge to get back to it. This time, I approached things more seriously and with a greater desire to learn more and do more. I chose a pattern – I’d never actually followed one before – and I made this floor mat.
As I watched that edge start to come together I already knew I’d make another mat right away. The process was too soothing, too enjoyable, and so relaxing. I needed that feeling. For years, my life has been nothing but family, work and home. Crocheting is my release and it takes me back to my past. My mother is an amazing artist. She cooks wonderful meals, she sews amazing clothes, she draws, and knits and crochets.
I can’t do any of those except crochet. That simple edge pushes me to find a new pattern to follow and to look forward. The crochet hook itself connects me to wonderful memories of the past, of home, and of family.