When I was a child, I learned to knit. At first it was simple stuff, then I knitted dolls and I knitted clothes to the dolls.
It continued with socks and sweaters. When I was twelve years old, I made my first sweater with self-designed designs. I knocked in front of the TV, so many sweaters made me go to friends. Some have I left, even a skirt that I knit to myself (and never used-it got pretty ugly). Now that I see my creations, I can sometimes wonder where my aesthetic mind was. It was creative for creativity, some got great, otherwise not. Just as it should be.
I even knitted sweaters, trousers, caps, socks and socks for small children. It was so fast to do the little mini-variants of adult clothes. I have left the two shirts in the picture. I put them in my bridal box, which I would bring when I moved home to form my own family. Certainly, the thought of children in their teens was far away, but it was there. My future children would wear the shirts I knitted as a teenager.
A divorce and a few test tube attempts later I know there will never be children. The sorrow is sometimes, it thinks like a hammer when I least annoy. Not especially often, but it happens. I can be jealous of those who had children and there the child even died. “You have at least experienced your child” thinking of my black and white ravaged brain. “For my part, I never saw it,” says it. It’s strange that I can miss something I’ve never had.
Writing a book has been the closest to giving birth to children I have come to. As if I could say that, I do not know what it means to give birth to children. The book is something I created from myself, along with wonderful help from Desiree. We are two, in a wonderful, rare combination. In some way, it represents me and Desiree, albeit the book is neither Desiree nor I. I have so many hopes, so many potential disappointments, and so much love – may it be fine, little friend.
Now she is in the bookstore. I have wondered how long it took to feed that child. The trip started already in 2003, in connection with the divorce that took cabbage on performance anxiety and also almost to me. In that, there was regeneration, to dare, although I do not know how it goes or where it is carried. Life has so much to offer, it’s about being out of the vulnerable, feeling, living, failing, succeeding e – and sometimes just getting rest, giving myself pleasure. Or, it started in 2002, when I started running. Or with the first writing course, which I think I went to ABF 1998.
I have jumped around in stores, told me how amazing she is for the staff to highlight her, roaming to the PR manager at Bonniers and the salesman – She has to get the best chances! Write! Sell! Lift her up everywhere! Sometimes I’ve got the feeling that they do not understand my zeal – maybe it’s just another book. To me she is the only one. I have had the requirement for her to be perfect, must meet my wishes and measurements to point and dot. I laid off the collars at the moment when I realized that it was perfect and unpleasant. It is in love she is truly wonderful. Just as she is. She is amazingly beautiful, the finest available. That’s what all parents like about their child. Now she is out there wandering in the streets, she is popular with many, she gets the highest score, she will travel abroad on new adventures. I’m proud, and I do not want to be inflated, hollow proud of her and risk falling as a flat balloon, depending on whether others like her or not. Sure, I am happy and hugely proud that she is well-liked and I want to be happy and proud of her just because she is her. Before me she is the best. She will always be, no matter what others think.
Now is the time to let go. Realize that she is an adult. She walks her one way, just as she wants. I will always be there like a loving parent, ready to be with her and help her if needed. But do not curl, do not war for her and try to convince others about her excellence, to the slight extent that she herself ends up in the darkness.
Tomorrow I’ll take the two knitted sweaters on the picture. I’ll give them two friends who finally got a long-awaited daughter. “Still something kids want to be happy about them,” said Grandma when I knitted them. They will finally have to fulfill their function, their opinion of life. They have been waiting for a long time.
Sometimes it’s good to know when it’s time to let go. It’s time to sail on new shores and create new, beautiful children and let those who live, live their lives to the fullest.