I learned how to knit at age six or seven. My mother learned from her mother and on up the line of Irish women who’s lives depended, in one way or another on mastering the skill.
I Love Making Baby Socks
Over the years I have perfected my skills, spent hours making socks, scarves, hats and more hats. Knitting needles have been an extension of my hands and a serious part of my identity.
Baby Hunter Wearing One of Grandma’s Hats
When packing my “stash” to accompany me to Mexico, I couldn’t image finding the soft wools and alpaca yarns that I cherished. As it was, I gave away bags and bags of yarn at the garage sales that were our weekend activities as we prepared for our move to Bacalar.
A Fraction of My Yarn Collection
It has taken us two and a half years to build and inhabit our house in the tropical climate along the shore of Laguna Bacalar. During that time, my boxes of yarn and needles have been tucked away in storage only to be opened this week.
As I fondly handled my soft, delicate yarns and needles, I burst into tears. I am no longer THAT person. I do not need to de-stress with the meditative clicking of needles after a long day at a boring government job. My attire no longer includes a differently knotted scarf every day worn in an air conditioned office. I can barely stand to wear a scarf in this climate, even on the coolest day.
Our Front Entrance in Bacalar MX
I was not prepared for how this whole experience, retiring, moving and now living in Mexico would change me. I’m not saying that I’ll never knit again. That would be silly.
Hibiscus Blooming in the Yard, After a Brief Shower
How do you define yourself? What if you lost a particular interest or capacity? Giving up my identity as a knitter came as an unexpected shock. I wonder what other surprises life has for me. The tears lasted a few minutes and the funeral took place in my head. I am so grateful for my life. Here’s to the new me that is changing every day. DOS TORTAS
the adventures of dos tortas 
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