an old picture of my home knitting nest, circa 2007. today's nest is sadly lacking in feline companionship.
I'm not sure what exactly I want to say about things right now.
I am blessed, that's for sure. I have a roof over my head, a loving companion and a sweet healthy child. We have enough food. We have jobs. We have friends and family. It's important to remind myself of these things, to keep everything in perspective.
As my sister said, it could be a lot worse. Some families have much worse to deal with. Abuse. Neglect. Nobody who loves them.
We have lots of love. We are lucky.
My dad is sick. My dad is 62. My dad was the picture of health until very recently. Now he is sick. Now we are spending too many long, boring days in the hospital waiting for the next test, the next update, the next procedure.
The knitting nest on my couch is frequently transformed into a bed for my mom, since our house is so much closer to the hospital. The Little Pea is so happy to see more of her grandmother, but bewildered by the absence of her buddy, my mom's other half, her grandfather.
He is at home right now. He is waiting... we're all waiting... waiting to find out what the course of treatment will be. Waiting to know what the prognosis is. Waiting to find out what to expect.
There is certainly lots of time for knitting. Miles and miles of stockinette stitch, acres of repeating patterns... I could be knitting afghans or men's sweaters, or many many pairs of warm socks. I am struggling a bit right now with what project to pick up and take for these long hours of waiting. As if something in the choice I make will tell us something about the future.
