First Person
My Mother/My Sweater
As I’ve mentioned in previous essays, my interest in and enjoyment of dressing myself was first fostered by my mother. We continue to connect through this language today, and it’s been one of the longest ongoing conversations I’ve had.
Not too long ago, I was visiting my parents and found myself poking around my parents’ basement apartment and found a large black garbage bag filled with something soft.
“Something soft” in a garbage bag often means a duvet or bedding, but it also made me think of clothing, and since my mother has an extensive wardrobe, I was curious if this might be things she was letting go of. I peeked in it, and it was full of clothes. My father confirmed later that it was going to the hospice thrift store.
I love thrifting! How convenient it could be to thrift from my mother’s cast-offs! What a bargain! My father had some trepidation about me pilfering my mother’s donations, but since we are not the same size, I knew that the thrift store would still get the majority of the bag.
As I perused the goods, I came across a sweater.
It was vaguely familiar, but it didn’t immediately jump out as something I’d knit for her (hilariously, my other thought was, “Why didn’t my mom ask me to make something like this for her?”). There was no label. It was also seamless, which is when I started to think I had knit it for her.
What may have been most surprising is that there was no disappointment in finding it in a bag destined for the thrift. The fact that I couldn’t remember actually knitting it meant that she’d had it for a long time, and as someone who is working on detaching sentimentality from their own wardrobe, I couldn’t fault her for letting it go rather than keeping it out of obligation.
I must admit; I was pretty impressed with the quality of it.
It was bulky-weight funnel neck sweater with a cable running up the left side of both sides and elbow-length sleeves. It would never fit me as it was, but all that yarn…and it was brown, a color I’m always trying to find the perfect shade of. So, I took it.
Back in Hamilton, I ignored whatever was on the needles and started to unravel the sweater.
Why yes, it was bulky because it was knit with two strands of worsted wool. I’m guessing it was Lamb’s Pride. I kept the strands together. I didn’t need to make even more work for myself, and I had liked the effect of the two together.
For a small sweater, it yielded a lot of yarn. I knew I wanted a cardigan and continuing the thriftiness of this project (it’s genetic!), I found a free pattern for a cardigan that suited both me and the yarn.
The sweater moved along quickly, and as I knit it, I felt a contentment and satisfaction in repurposing something I’d given to my mother, which she had worn and kept for many years.
My title for this essay was initially a cheeky nod to the classic Nancy Friday book My Mother/My Self. In all honesty, while I’ve owned the book for decades, I’ve never read it; however, it has occupied shelf space in the back of my mind.
Making this sweater for myself from this yarn, originally worked into a sweater for my mother, has felt like a kind of reckoning. I see my mother and myself as the two individual strands that can come together harmoniously with the right project.
How we envision what could become of that yarn is different and based on our needs and desires at the moment, but our commonality is ever present, and since I ran out of yarn to finish the front band, I’ll be adding something new to the mix. It’s something my mother would do as well.
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How sweet and beautiful and heart warming!!!
Heart warming story. Yes, we are deeply connected to our mothers in unfathomable ways until an unexpected memory comes to the surface. The bond is always present.
I have a cardi of my mother’s, she having left us ten years ago, from NZ and made from beautiful very dark brown possum yarn. So soft! And alas, so small. I have been saving it to unravel the yarn and knit something for myself but have yet to find the right project. I will need to add another yarn to make it large enough for me– maybe alpaca?
I’ve had a friend bring me possum yarn from NZ. It’s wonderful. Alpaca would work, but maybe you could get some more NZ yarn somewhere?
Claudia always makes me think! How wonderful to still have a vibrant mother and to share that common thread! (I need to re-read that book!)
Comes around . . . Goes around. I love this!
Could you please provide a link to the pattern?
Hi Nancy –
It’s the Hillside cardigan: https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/hillside-cardigan-2
Cheers,
Claudia
Thank you for this, Claudia. I was just talking with a friend whose mother died when my friend was 21, as happened to me too. 41 years later, we think of our mothers most days, a vivid set of memories, not enough memories, and so many unanswered questions, like an unfinished buttonband.
What a great story to read today! Thank you.
Happy Mother’s Day to you and your mother. Thank you for sharing this beautiful story.
Perfect story for Mother’s Day weekend. How lucky and cathartic to find the sweater and make it A gift for yourself. So complicated and loving is this mother-daughter bond!
Lovely ! How wonderful to envelope yourself in such warmth….
Beautiful story and sweater.
I used to get my mom’s castoffs. She had lots of clothes of very good quality. We called them “mom-me-downs”.
Memories of mothers! Mine was not interested in crafting, but when she was recovering from surgery her sister taught her how to make granny squares. She made enough for an afghan which I have. It is made of wool, so popular, back many years ago and just like new. I will pass it on to my daughter when the time is right and know she will appreciate her gran’s one hand crocheted jewel.
Wearing this will be like a warm hug from your mother.
This touched my heart. My mom, a knitter, passed away two years ago. We had knit nights, went on yarn crawls, and visited yarn shops together. I miss those times. I inherited her yarn stash and have been knitting through it and gifting items to friends and family in her memory. Enjoyed reading about your sweater and your mom. Happy Mother’s Day!
Most excellent. I found one of the first sweaters i had made free form at roughly 14 yrs old -for mom- from shades of greeny/yellow and a darker olive wool blend. She was a wearer of blue, but she kept it all these years despite its ‘uniqueness’ til her passing. It went to thrift after some long, tough detachment. Thanks for sharing this version of mom sweater.
Love this story, thank you Claudia. That brown is beautiful!
My Dad recently passed on. I was the lucky recipient of the sweater his mother knitted him when he was a young man. It was Mothers Sweater! Being the only knitter of his kids, I felt it only fitting that it passed on to me. It is likely at least 70 years old, carefully taken care of by my Mom.