Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the yarn shop typically drew me in, a siren's call to creativity. Today, though, the skeins of wool felt heavy, the air thick with the scent of lanolin. I sat by the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, a heavy sigh escaping me. Across the room, my daughter, Willow, was already sorting through her stash, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Mom, can we learn to knit a cable stitch? I saw this amazing sweater…" The enthusiasm was infectious, but all I could manage was a weary nod.