It must be fall; I've been knitting again, something green and blue that is very fuzzy and bulky. Where it will go I don't yet know. Somewhere around the time I finish with the yarn it will come to me: this afghan would be perfect for so-and-so. Perhaps a friend will be recovering from a surgery, or a child will need a comfort blankie, or I'll hear of a stranger that could use a little surprise boost. As I knit it comes to me. Comfort is almost always appreciated, and snuggling is universal.
They talk about transitional objects for babies, but I believe we need them throughout our lives, and I have had my bouts of wearing a ring of my mother's for days or weeks at a time, or putting on my father's all weather hat when I needed support. When I go on a trip, I often wear my mother's diamond studs, because she was fearful of flying, and I know she'd understand and protect me if she could.
We are swaddled as infants, and we can all use a bit of swaddling throughout our lives. The robe Buddhists refer to is "the Great Robe of Liberation". We take on this mantle of our ancestors, struggling to do good in the world and not cause harm. But maybe that robe is also the robe of our mothers, cradling us as we are born into this world, and maybe it is the robe in which we are wrapped as we die; an emblem of love to be a companion to us in this life.
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