My Mother Is Not This Blanket

I’m thrilled to have a new essay at Full Grown People today. It’s about a blanket my mother was making when she died that I don’t know how to finish. Every time I look at the unfinished blanket, I feel kind of sad and inadequate, like an unworthy link in my family story. Why didn’t my mother ever teach me how to crochet so I could finish the damn thing? I sat with the story for a long time, and it was only recently that I thought of the story (and the blanket) in a different way: as part of an immigrant narrative I so rarely assign to my mother. She *was* an immigrant (even though I never really thought of her as one) and, as in all immigrant stories, something always gets left behind.

I feel better about it now. I might not ever finish the blanket, but I have this essay. And that’s something.

“The blanket, still in pieces, sits in a bag in my attic. I take it down sometimes, run my fingers over the soft white cotton, yellow now with age. If I let my eyes blur, I can almost see my mother crocheting in front of the T.V., a cigarette and glass of white wine on the nightstand beside her. Her needle moves in a jerky, seemingly haphazard way, but when it stops, a delicate white hexagon appears. Later, she will crochet these hexagons together to create the piece of blanket I am holding now.”

Read more here!

 

 

Published by Daisy Alpert Florin

I'm a writer, editor, teacher and mother of three. I write personal essays and am currently working on a novel. I grew up in New York City and now live in Connecticut with my family.

One thought on “My Mother Is Not This Blanket

  1. So beautiful and why on earth is it that every single time I read one of your essays I cry!! Daisy Alpert Florin…stop writing so sincerely and beautifully that I always have to shed tears!

    on that topic, just curious…do you ever cry when you write?

    On Thu, Apr 26, 2018 at 6:19 PM, daisy alpert florin wrote:

    > Daisy Alpert Florin posted: ” I’m thrilled to have a new essay at Full > Grown People today. It’s about a blanket my mother was making when she died > that I don’t know how to finish. Every time I look at the unfinished > blanket, I feel kind of sad and inadequate, like an unworthy link i” >

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: