I picked up a pair of knitting needles yesterday.
They felt awkward and somewhat foreign in my hands. As if, after nearly three years apart, the needles and my fingers had forgotten how to rest comfortably together.
(Yes, nearly three years is also the age of my daughter. No, that is not a coincidence).
I paused, at first, to look at them. Somehow stumped by what to do next. Unsure if I should even begin the project or if it had really just been too long.
And then… I started knitting.
My mind may have forgotten but the muscles, they remembered.
And soon, I was off; on my way. Reviving a hobby, and a side of myself, that I’ve ignored for three years. Finding comfort in the count of stitches, the flow of yarn in and out of itself, the once again familiar movements of my fingers around the needles.
As mothers, we sometimes look upon large parts of our pre-baby selves as long gone, never to return. We yearn for those days, or at least small parts of them, while resigning ourselves to a new life. A new life with so many blessings, of course, but a life in which we are different. We push aside our hobbies and our dreams to make way for motherhood.
But our muscles, they remember those pre-baby days. And they are eager to remind us that those days are not as long gone as we may think.
This week, I am thankful for….
… the revival of a forgotten hobby.
… the human body’s amazing way of telling you that you need to slow down… and then the way it forces you to do so.
… mid-week days off, perfectly ripe for trips to the park.
… seltzer water. Weirdest. Pregnancy. Craving. EVER.
… the way grandparents’ faces light up when my girl gives them spontaneous hugs.
… the moment when I dropped my iPhone on concrete and it did not break!
… an hour with my mother-in-law and a ball of tangled yarn; bonding over a shared task and shared result.
Happy weekend, all! We’re smack in the middle of a four-day weekend here (more about that on Monday) and I’m already getting into my weekend groove. Hope you are too.