Yesterday, I watched Ms. H have her friend R teach her how to crochet. Sitting on a bench at a local park, the two girls were rapt with concentration as Ms. H’s fingers slowly but surely figured out how to loop and pull. Her movements were clumsy, her results loose and ill-formed. I cringed at her frustration, reminded painfully of myself, of my childhood. “I’m just not good at this!” she announced, starting to walk away. I drew her onto my lap and we tried again, two sets of not-so-deft hands moving together. Finally, a chain started to form, and her face lit up like the sun. “I did it!” she cried. I hugged her tight, relieved, as she continued to bend that spool of blue yarn to her will.
The rest of this article can be read at Natural Life Magazine.