M. Suzanne Terry

I have been a knitter for years, but it has taken on a life of its own during this pandemic. My knitting has become like my writing in that I have several projects started (at least one for each room of the apartment, because God forbid I actually move them with me when I change spaces). I am about a third of the way through a blanket for a friend and almost halfway through a box sweater that matches the cozy aesthetic I long to cultivate.

The glorious and hideous thing you see above is a patchwork blanket I’ve been making by knitting remnants of yarn and then piecing them together. It was just going to be a lap throw, but I significantly underestimated the sheer volume of yarn that I had that was too much to throw away but not enough to really make anything. So it just keeps growing. I wore it around my shoulders during my morning check-in with my supervisor who then insisted that it needed to make an appearance at the staff meeting later that day. It’s now the official home office blanket.

Creating something almost always brings me joy. Even if it doesn’t turn out as I planned, the creative process itself energizes me. While it’s not necessarily a cure-all for my frequent funks, it does seem to help me come up for air a bit. I guess that’s what joy is supposed to do. It’s a little light to see by.

I’m writing about chasing joy for the 31 days of December. Click here to see the whole list.