Right around the time when we got serious about building this house, I started on an epic crochet project, a huge intricate blanket named, beautifully, Sophie's Universe.
The house project and the blanket project became, for me, inextricably linked. Both long slow-burn projects, both with their share of difficulties and false starts and bits needing to be ripped out and re-done. I gave myself a deadline: when the house is finished, the blanket should also be finished.
Sometimes it seemed the house would win, and other times it looked like the blanket would romp in at first place.
Through the summer days and the truckloads of metal, wood and brick deliveries, I doggedly hooked away. In front of the tv in the evenings, during the school/kindy day, a snatched moment on the weekend. As winter crept in, the house grew and the blanket spread across my lap. The house barely progressed, but the blanket became too big to finish one round in an evening. Then winter slowly withdrew and the blanket lay idle, folded neatly in its basket, and the house raced ahead again as spring bubbled up around us.
As you would know, there have been ups and downs in the house build. In some way those memories, good and bad have been stitched into the blanket. All the ebbs and flows are preserved there, even if I'm the only one who remembers.
Now here we are, living in this house. To all intents and purposes, it's finished (4L of paint notwithstanding).
It's summer again. The blanket is barely half finished. One day I folded it into the basket and never picked it up again.
Today however, I opened the storeroom and saw the blanket, still neatly folded and patiently waiting. I pulled the basket down and tonight once the smalls are in bed, I'll sit down with my hook and find my place in the pattern, choose a colour and add another round.
The house may have won the race, but if I can spend all winter under the comforting bulk of the blanket, in our beautiful new house, I'd say I won anyway.
