Love in a Blanket

Being in a long-distance relationship is one of the toughest situations a young couple can find themselves in. I know, because four out of my last four relationships were long distance for a period longer than a year. It sucks. My mom, who was in a long distance relationship with my dad for the two years before they were married, always says, "You've got Facebook! FaceTime! Skype! You kids have got it easy!" It's a double-edged sword. Is it great that Peter and I can get together and watch an episode of Freaks and Geeks on FaceTime together? Sure. But I'm so hyper-conscious and hyper-informed of his comings, his goings, his parties, his shows, new friends...sometimes I'm not sure if we've made it easier on ourselves. In some ways those updates only emphasize his absence and our distance from each other. So every tangible thing we can do to feel close to each other takes on a value of tenfold importance.

Enter the blanket.

I'm a firm believer that crochet is a severely undervalued technique. For every four awesome knitting pattern books out there, there's like, one crochet book and the rest are all for preteen beanies or hideous afghans or doilies or something. You can do amazing things with crochet if you have the patience. I found this pattern on a website after wanting to make an Irish fisherman-style blanket for my mother for Christmas. (For those interested, you can find the original pattern here). It took a very, very long time and a lot of trial and error but the look on her face when she opened it Christmas morning was worth every hour I'd spent. My mom is the type who gets cold when the house is 85 degrees and it makes me feel better to know that all $80 and 10 pounds of wool (or however much I used) is there to keep her warm.

I made another blanket for my grandmother the next Christmas, then when my fingers started itching again the following year I figured I'd make one for myself in the oatmeal Lion's Brand Fisherman's Wool instead of the cream I'd used for my mother and grandmother. As I worked on it, I started dating Peter. I realized I'd have to leave him and Portland and all of my friends the following fall to start graduate school and as the day got closer I realized that in no way could this blanket be meant for me anymore. It was for us. Because I knew that in two years the day would come when I would go home and it wouldn't just be on his bed or his couch anymore. It'd be on ours.

It's goopy stuff like that that keeps me going.

So I finished the blanket and slept with it, then Peter took it home with him after he visited. Even as I write this Peter is under the blanket (even though he's the type who gets hot in 35 degree weather, he has incredibly poor circulation in his hands and they get cold). And there's a really strange sort of comfort in the thought that if I can't be there with him to keep him warm, at least the blanket can.

Man, by this time I think we should name it or something. Algernon. Algernon? I'm not sure which is weirder, Peter sleeping with an anthropomorphized boy blanket or girl blanket. Maybe we'll just conclude that Peter sleeping with an anthropomorphized blanket is weird, period.

And this was shaping up to be such a nice sentimental post. Oh, well.