One summer, we sat on the stoop in front of my best friend’s building and her mother taught us to crochet. We were more than a little bit boy crazy, and I suspect her very traditional Italian mother was trying to distract us from risqué behavior in the schoolyard. It’s been decades, but whenever I pick up my hook, those moments come flooding back. We are again fifteen, two heads bowed together over her mother’s hands. She gives the skein a little tug, guides the hook, a quick flip and yarn over, creating a mesmerizing row of identical little loops.
Ellen Acconcia is originally from New York City, currently living and writing in coastal North Carolina. ellenacconcia.contently.com