Keep Going

Lesia, our Ukrainian guest, wanted to take up knitting again after a career too busy for hobbies. So, Ric bought both of us needles and wool for Christmas and my neighbour offered to hold a knitting circle where we could learn and practice English.

Lesia was miles ahead of me from the start, her patience and former skills serving her well. I kept knitting, making errors, stopping and starting again, or knotting the yarn and giving up, leaving a heap of small patches.. Knitting, Grandmother told me when I was nine, is not for me. She suggested crocheting instead. I took up neither.

Lesia, upon discovering my scraps, held them up and examined them as if to say: “What’s going on here?”


Shaking her head, she unravelled all the bits and rolled the wool into a neat ball. “No more practice!” she insisted, pushing my phone towards me. “Find a pattern.”

So I decided on a scarf and followed the guidelines, and lo and behold, that roll of knitted yarn is the finished product.

Hard to argue with a woman, who forced to leave her homeland at 64 years of age, is starting again from ground zero. Guess I’ll keep going, after all.

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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