My grandmother taught me how to knit when I was about ten. I don't have a very clear memory of the knitting lessons, but I know that I enjoyed spending one-on-one time with my "Nannie." I didn't knit anything to completion at the time; I just learned the mechanics, put the needles down, and went back to my Nancy Drew obsession.
I didn't pick up knitting needles again until I was twenty and pregnant. My claim to knitting fame to this day is a tiny, multicolored (pale pastels) baby sweater with freakishly long arms.
I loved knitting it as I dreamed of the child who was coming into the world, the one who saved my life. My mom had to sew the pieces together and put the tiny buttons on it.
These days, the sweater is hiding somewhere in my house. We forgot to even look for it when my daughter's own firstborn daughter arrived.
My granddaughter, like her mother, was born with arms of regular length, so it wouldn't have fit her very well anyway. I still marvel that I made that sweater, and that child too.