It is exactly a year ago today that I got back from an overseas trip and rang up my mother to see how she was, and she told me that she wasn’t well. Two days later she died.
This knitting bag is the one she kept small projects in. I’m using it to hold the pair of socks I’m knitting. My mother made the bag out of a fabric that was typical of her taste. She liked oranges and browns and she loved paisley patterns. I don’t like paisley, I don’t like orange, and I don’t like brown. I keep looking at the bag and thinking – Well, I could copy the neat design to make myself a bag out of a fabric I like. But it wouldn’t be one my mother used every day, one I saw on her sofa whenever I went to visit. So I guess this bag – which to my eyes is unlovely - will be staying right here on my sofa.
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