The Afghan was begun no one recalls exactly when, it started off as many skeins of variegated yarn, dozens of granny squares and good intentions. My Great-Grandmother Meme started it. My mother said Meme started it when mom was pregnant with one of my brothers - she can't recall which one - given the youngest is now 22 and she is pretty certain it was before him, that is at least a couple decades plus. My Great-Grandmother for some reason was unable to finish it and sent it to my mom. My mom gave an attempt - but didn't get very far. She wasn't much with granny squares. Years ago I inherited it - a bag of yarn and squares, good intentions and unfinished business. Relegated to a box and forgotten about through several moves, and then, one day I opened that box not really remembering what was in it and found the bag of squares and skeins. I had never learned to crochet a granny square. Feeling a new found interest in picking up a crochet hook again, I asked a good friend to teach me how to make a granny square. She was a left handed crocheter, but willing. I learned sitting opposite her - mirror image. I finished the afghan, a couple decades later and with hands a few generations from those that began it. I crocheted enough squares to finish a throw sized afghan. Then I sewed them all together, crocheted around the edges to finish it and used it to catch my newborn daughter in - she of the red curly hair and fearless blue eyes.
The years go by and things get forgotten sometimes even when you don't mean to. I cleaned out a closet and found the afghan folded neatly into yet another box - having been stored for another move, and never unpacked. This time however, I pulled it out of the box finished and whole. I called my curly haired daughter to see and told her this was her afghan. She asked me if I made it and I told her that I did and her grandma did and her great-great grandma did - that they started it and I finished it. Her blue eyes widened and she exclaimed "They all did?! Oh I love it!" Then she and the afghan disappeared to her room and been inseparable since.
Perhaps I am putting too much thinking into it - but I honestly believe this afghan was meant to be hers. Begun by a grandmother for a great-grandchild to be that she just couldn't seem to finish. Attempted by a mother too busy and lacking in skill to finish for her child. Handed off to another child for another grandchild - the fifth generation. A child who never got to meet her Great-Great-Grandmother in this life, but can wrap herself up safe and cozy in the hopeful creation of loving hands - born of love, given with love, finished with love.
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