New yarn sits splayed across my lap. Endless rows cover my expanding belly.
I hope to recall the stitches from memory.
Mindlessly I weave under and over, tiny kicks rumble my work.
Undoing my mistakes, I am surprised how much I have forgotten, how much I remember.
Stuck at a corner again, I am relieved to see my nurse/crochet instructor return.
They climb to my lap to poke curious fingers at the tangled beginning.
There are intricacies in my pattern, color changes and future dreams.
Pulling the yarn further out, I see the knots forming.
I am almost finished.
Making peace with my attempt, I resign to admire my work. Unraveled and already frayed, imperfectly complete, and woven in vivid colors that chose me.
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