I was afraid he’d stop breathing
During his impossible naps
I was afraid he’d fall and bleed
When he started walking too soon
I was afraid his own cells
Wouldn’t stop attacking his body
I look at him now
This beautiful, peaceful, happy
Barely beyond a decade
Full of joy
I look at his crumpled face
Will someone be afraid of him someday?
I’ve been hurt by white men
Never with such devastation
Will my son
Who looks like killers
Be someone who hurts?
How do I stop?
What do I say?
How can I discipline?
When step away?
Will I be afraid of him?
The boy I loved the
Moment he formed
Before any of him
And then we formed him
This is my latest Dark Yarn.
On the surface, it’s not dark. It’s bright and cozy. The idea is adorable. My son’s new step-brother has a nursery filled with Winnie the Pooh and friends.
I couldn’t quite bring myself to make the baby a new blanket. I started. I tried. His mother and grandmother are beautiful yarn artists, so the young one with have his share of cuddly wrappings. It’s good he didn’t need mine. Because I couldn’t keep going.
I wanted to make a blanket for my own son. But, one he could share with his new brother. The one who shares his father and his initials and his half-birthday.
So, we came up with this pre-teen blanket. No too baby-ish. (I was warned. Several times. Someone is not a baby.) But something that could bridge the gap between the boys-the distance spanning their rooms and their ages.
It wasn’t an easy blanket to crochet. Technically, it was simple. Emotionally, it was a tangle of dropped stitches and twisted wool.
My heart hurt as I wrapped and pulled. I cried a bit. I made an absolute mess of the red yarn. I ripped it apart. I put it back together. And I kept on going. One stitch at a time.
I hope both of these boys like their blanket. Something to share. Something to remember.
I’m so glad I made it.
And I hope I can keep on going.