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My grandmother doesn’t really know who I am anymore. She’s always a little chilly, she doesn’t like lettuce now, she adores the colors teal and purple, and she knows that my mom and I are hers. The last time she tried to introduce us to someone in the assisted living facility where she resides, that we were hers somehow was as far as she got: “These are my…these are my…”

And even knowing that it can’t last, the fact that she still knew we were hers, even if she couldn’t say how or remember our names, was enough. I know that each case of Alzheimer’s is different, and I’m so grateful that my grandmother still recognizes me to any degree, and that it’s with affection. And I decided that even if she won’t know who it’s from or how much love was knit into each stitch, a purple wool shawl would keep her warm and be in one of her favorite colors, and that would be enough.

So. This is the most important bit of holiday knitting that I’ve assigned myself for this year, and I’m happy that I’ve finally made the time to start.

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