The Sweater I Cannot Wear
This is another sweater I've done out of La Gran. I love the colors in it, I love the way the stripes bend at the raglan shaping. It fits great, but I can't wear it. This is what I was knitting on September 11, 2001. This sweater is the product of all of my nervous energy during that time. Keeping Caleb's routine (he was 8 1/2 months old) normal and burning nervous energy into my knitting kept me sane. I have vivid memories of putting him down for his naps (he was still doing two a day then) and sitting down to knit on this sweater. I would cry and knit, knitting as fast as my hands would go, as if the safety of my family depended on my knitting this sweater. Mickael was supposed to leave for New York on September 13 for his job, he had had the plane tickets for over a week when we were attacked and we didn't know until the 12th that his trip had been canceled. Every doubt, every bit of sadness, confusion, anger, and fear that I had at that time has been knitted into this sweater. I have put the sweater on many times, but I can't wear it for more than a minute or two. I have thought about giving it away, as a gift, to a charity, anywhere, but I can't. I have thought about frogging it and making the yarn into something else, but that seems somehow disrespectful and wrong. I will keep the sweater. Someday, maybe I will be able to wear it, or I will be able to part with it, but for now, it lives in my closet with all of my other sweaters, holding my emotions and feelings deep within the stitches of the mohair. Prior to September 11, I knitted sporadically. Since this sweater came off the needles, I have had at least one project on the needles all the time. Before September 11, I knew how to knit. After completing this sweater, I was a knitter.