Some of the best memories of my childhood involve crocheting. Whenever the rain started pouring, I would brew tea for my mother (earl grey, splash of milk). I knew I would find her in her corner chair working on her latest crochet projects. Sitting next to the radiator and hearing its gentle hum, I always loved watching her.

Our house was filled with fabric owls and coffee cozies, and I never felt safer or more secure than I did while watching the rhythm of her hooks on her crochet projects. These days, as an adult, I can understand why she spent so much time on her hobby; there’s something wonderful about knowing you’re creating an object that will be both useful and beautiful.

My own home is now filled with my crochet projects, each symbolizing another rainy, radiator-humming day. I can only hope that when my friends use what I’ve created, they’ll feel that same comfort wrap around them. You can, too.

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