I posted a few days ago about me not getting my shawl done in time for the deadline.
I truly thought I wouldn't.
But I kept working on it. A few rows here and there, when I had a moment to stop.
Those rows added up without me noticing. And I woke up this morning, realizing that I had just 17 rows and a bind-off between me and the end of this shawl.
I didn't think I could do it. That's a lot to do on a day when I had other errands to run. But I felt that familiar spark. The one that always leads me to calling on Henry for another impossible challenge.
So, I took a breath, grabbed my needles, and got to work. I knit all morning. I knit during lunch. On the car rides between stops. I even knit in the dark on the way home.
And when we got home, John told me to get my arse upstairs and finish it. He'd take care of putting away the shopping. He was almost as determined as I was to see me finish.
And I did.
I finished it.
It's not washed or blocked. The ends haven't been woven in. But it is off the needles and around my shoulders for the moment. She's going to be beautiful when the little bit of finishing work is done. But for now, I'm simply grateful for what she is.
Twelve shawls in twelve months seemed like an impossible challenge when I started it. I figured I'd give up at some point. But I didn't.
There's a lot of feelings going on right now, and some thoughts I have, but those are for another post.
Tonight, I'm going to enter the new year feeling determined and invigorated. And grateful for this one last gift of holiday magic.
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