My nuclear family didnít do afghans. But everyone around it did. Aunts, grandmothers, cousins, and friends crocheted afghans right along with scarves, mittens, and toilet seat and paper covers. At first I was embarrassed by their gifts, but later realized that my identity was created within the rainbow web of yarn. Even now, as I solicit afghans from my circle of friends, they are loaned grudgingly and only after I promise not to damage them. Their hearts, too, beat within them.
© 2017 Carol Hummel