A Few Yards Short of a Washcloth

I settled down with my laptop at the kitchen table and watched an episode of Road to Avonlea while crocheting a kitchen washcloth with some leftover yarn. While I reveled in the beauty I have found for well over a decade in L.M. Montgomery's Prince Edwards Island, I crocheted stitch by stitch. The purple gave way to the green which melted into cream, easing back into purple. I felt that sense of growing, peaceful accomplishment I get when I crochet. The rows piled up one upon another until I reached the end of the ball of yarn.

Now this is not the first time I have crocheted something that wound up too short because I ran out of yarn. There was also this black scarf - bulletproof we called it. It was made from chunky yarn and I chose stitches that were too close together. Even after two skeins, the scarf still insisted on being migit-sized. My husband teased me about it, and I tucked it away in a dark corner to let it think about the embarrassment it had caused me. But one night, it found its purpose for life. That purpose was to be my husband's favorite neck scarf. The poor, laughed at scarf has kept him warm through the coldest nights of this winter. Its hefty weave provided extra insulation, and its short stature became convient because it did not dangle out from underneath his coat.

My new odd-shaped washcloth will be better treated than her cousin scarf. She will be appreciated from the start and put to use at once.

You know, life is like that. We all have a useful purpose. We have all been created for a purpose. We or others may not see it at first, but if we will allow ourselves to become useful, we will be.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.7