I was working my crochet on the bus today and my hands were dry… It seems like dry hands cause you to feel every twist of thread in a strand of yarn, doesn’t it? I know I did… and it got me wondering about something I thought about a few days ago while I was working on my project at home.
I was watching one of the CSI shows and they were talking about epithelials, the skin cells that slough off our bodies when we touch things, and how they were found on some object that was relevant to their case.
It got me thinking this:
Every time I touch this skein of yarn and wind it around my hand, pulling up loops to create the fabric, I’m leaving a little bit of me behind. It’s not just my skill (or lack of it!) as a crafter that goes into, not just my time, not just my effort – but actual small bits of me that hold my very DNA are being woven in as well.
That might gross some people out… but not me. I was kind of awed by the thought. I don’t think anyone who picks up a crochet hook or a set of knitting needles ever thought of what they do as being anything other than personal. To me those little skin cells are physical reminders of the love, the heart, the soul we put into every project our hands touch. And yeah, they probably all get wiped away when we wash or block those projects but I’d like to think that just a little bit of me is locked in and will stay with whoever holds or wears that piece.
There is nothing more personal than that.