Dead People Yarn

This is a story about dead people, well actually about their yarn. Yarn they have left behind. Yarn shoved into garbage bags or huge cardboard boxes and sold at estate sales. “You have to take it all.” My friend did. Now she knits gifts for her family out of the yarn from dead people. It sounds a little macabre and also very green. But isn’t this what we do? We take what others discard — a word here, a look there, a pair of too big or too small jeans — and we make it new again. Maybe we just give it a new story to live in. Maybe we craft something out of it. Often the things we are gifted from those who have passed on either due to death or a change in their relationship with us or to whatever they left behind come in a pile. A mess. Possibly tangled or dusty. It’s our job to sort it. To take what looks shiny or useful to us and discard what doesn’t. Some of the enormous pile of dead people yarn my friend scored came with some not-so-great yarn as well. Yarn that wouldn’t hold up. Yarn that was made of icky fibers. Ugly yarn. Of course there’s a lover for every face and every skein of yarn. It’s good to pass on to others what doesn’t work for us unless of course it’s harmful to children or pets.

Sometimes giving something new life is easy. And a little sweet. I purchased a lovely shirt at a resale store. The store has a “no returns” policy. I discovered a thin, melted plastic type of stain on the shirt when I got home. I gave it a new life as a stuffed animal for my mother who has dementia. This morning my breakfast was two toasted slices of pumpkin bread with a poached egg and minced raw shallots, kale, and golden beets. The bread was given to one of my neighbors who gave some of it to me. I tailored the pumpkin bread to my personal tastes. I tailored the shirt to fit my mother’s current needs. But some leftovers need a second look before we notice their possible usefulness. I’m not just talking about things like using the little, angel shaped, holy water font I found in a junk store in Italy to hold my keys. Sometimes people leave us with final words that are hurtful. We can throw them on the floor of our soul and see which ones stick. Only the true ones will. Those truths may invite us to do a little self-tailoring. We can also learn from what doesn’t stick. Maybe we were afraid it would. Maybe we are overjoyed that it didn’t. What a gift. Pass it on.

Cinse Bonino
2022