My crochet floor mat is growing. It’s now just past the square stage, plenty big enough even for my size 10 feet and I’m only working on making it rectangular now. Although my tension seems to be getting progressively tighter and it’s growing wonky. And cotton has no “memory”, so unlike wool it appears that blocking in order to help set the shape is probably not going to cure the wonkiness.
Oh well, it’s made with a lot of love. That’s what matters, right? I know that when it’s finally in use I’ll look down at it while I wash my dishes and think about the places I crocheted it. The bus rides, the birthdays and family dinners, my cousin braiding the ends at Easter dinner, jury duty while I sat 3 feet behind a murderer, the sunny days, the cold, wet days. The days of my life have been crocheted into the rug and there is still time to weave in a few more memories before it’s finished.