Today I received in the mail a package from my mother. In it contained her famous peanut butter balls (yum!) and the work of my Great Grandmother's hands, my Christmas stocking. Made for me when I was a child, I don't remember having Christmas without it till the year I turned 33 and moved out of the state my mother lives in. I asked her to keep it for me, but we both decided this year that after Christmas she would send it to me. Today, it arrived.
Within this stocking, woven through it's loops of yarn and trails of thread, are untold memories of a lifetime. They are the memories of my childhood, and of family holidays with members who are no longer with us. It's the Christmases where it was our turn to host the family, and the living room was full of laughter and love. It's the years it was my Grandparent's turn, and we would all cross the street early so my mother could help my Grandmother and aunts with the holiday cooking. It's pumpkin pie, Christmas carols, and my Grandfather's quiet voice presiding in his chair by the big bay window. It's a life I don't ever want my bad memory to erase.
For years I have been wanting to recreate this stocking for my wife and her twin daughters. Now that it has arrived, I can get started. I intend to make them in some strange colors though. Orange and white for my Tennessee Vols loving wife. Blue and Yellow for the older of the twins Mary, who is in FFA. Crimson and white for the younger twin Britt, who just likes red. Pale blue and white for me. This one, the one from my Great Grandmother, will go in a shadowbox case to be preserved safely, still displayed every Christmas.
I will be posting the pattern here on it's completion. For now, onward to the hook!
