Soft, Shaky Hands

Ever received a gift you were gracious for but had no idea what to do with it? A few weeks ago during a visit with feeble, quickly aging grandparents, my precious grandmother gifted me with this blanket.

The look in her eyes indicated this was something that really meant a lot to her. I’m pretty picky about my home décor and while mi casa is sprinkled with a few ultra mod-60’s pieces collected from various family members, this particular one doesn’t fit nonetheless. Vivid, childhood memories of this oddball blanket being draped over my grandparents’ sofa reverberate through my head. I loathed it even then. It snagged everything, it was scratchy and the colors made me feel quite ill. As she handed me this dusty gift I thought to myself, “Dear God, how on earth am I going to fit this monstrosity into my suitcase for the flight back home?” It also killed me to think how my husband would react to the additional “piece of junk” that was going to have to be shoved into our already over packed linen closet.

After I snapped out of the “Oh, my God, what will I do with this thing…” thoughts going through my head, my grandmother said, “I made this before you were born, back when my hands still worked. When I’m not around anymore, I want you to have this so you can remember me and how I used to knit.”

Wow…

How does one react to such a touching moment?

Although my grandmother can’t read my mind, I suddenly felt awful and wanted to erase every ugly, selfish thought that went through my head about this darn thing. Within an instant I grew attached to the ugly ole chunk of yarn. The craftsmanship alone was quite impressive and it was, well a piece of her. Not perfect but quirky, durable, authentic and a piece of ME.

The next day my grandmother made us pork chops for lunch before we hopped on a flight back home to Dallas. I offered to help but she told me to sit down, relax and enjoy being a guest because rarely do she and my grandfather have family guests anymore and it was her pleasure to be a “Grandma” and cook for my husband and me in her home. As tempted as I was to stand up from the table and exert myself, I tried my best to sit down and be a humble guest. But I couldn’t help observing how many times she dropped a knife, spatula or the difficulty she had just opening the oven and pulling out a tray of rolls. She broke her shoulder falling off a sidewalk a couple of years ago and while it was replaced, her dominant, right hand now has limited use. I observed her picking up heavy iron-clad pots and pans, and couldn't help noticing how she struggled as her her hands violently shook.

Now back home with a little time on my hands, I can reflect on what a touching moment it was to receive such a gift. This blanket is piece of my life, a part of me and something to help me always cherish my loving grandmother’s soft, shaky hands.