I am wrestling with the Bar Mitzvah vest again.
I really have a very troubling relationship with this almost finished knitted object. It started off well and I was making good progress up to a point. Then – nothing. worse than nothing. I could not make myself knit it. Could not touch it. I carried it with me everywhere, but not a stitch was made on it. It came to the point that I started coming up with creative reasons not to knit in general.
I blamed the yarn. It was too black. Black is hard on my eyes. And I did not love the texture of the yarn. And…
Yesterday I had to unravel another four rows. As I was thinking back I realized that the yarn is not my problem. Enough pretending. The problem is me. My unreadiness, unwillingness to let go. My son is 13. He is a man. We take this seriously. When he was born this date seemed so far off. Yet in a proverbial blink of an eye it came. And letting go hurts a lot worse than labour did. I just had a baby 4 months ago, I still remember. I guess I did not want to finish the vest because I am feeling so ambiguous about the separation. I know we made a right decision, the best decision for my son. It just happens to be very hard on me.
So I knit the Vest again. Only now I know that I am seeking physical connection with my son. A tall order for a few skeins of yarn. It will have to do for now.