Stitched Together -

Or, how I impressed my son's boyfriend's parents with hand-knitted washcloths after finding myself at sea

Last week we traveled by train from Michigan to Los Angeles to visit our son and his boyfriend; they then drove us to La Jolla for my niece’s rehearsal dinner and wedding. When we returned to LA the following day, we met the boyfriend’s family for the first time - first time meeting this group, and first time ever meeting the family of a boyfriend.

The Wedding - How I found myself

I struggle with long trips, and the struggle was worse than usual this time around; the home ties are strong and I am not a good fit for West Coast living. I can always hold my own conversationally, but my clothes and body are built for Midwest cool temps: my “elegant sandals” are sturdy Skechers made for walking the trails of the Michigan woods, and this midwestern 60-something body bears absolutely no resemblance to any of the Beautiful People who sipped cocktails while nibbling on smoked salmon and bruschetta bites after the wedding.

Many of us had removed our shoes with the blessing of the happy couple, and I stepped into the shallowest waves of the ocean while contemplating some nearby pelicans as the sun dipped low on the horizon. I can’t believe no one else was doing the same thing, but also I was glad to be mostly alone. I released the chatter around and within me as I connected with earth, sea, and sky. After a few minutes, refreshed and grounded, I was able to return to the party with a renewed perspective.

Pelicans and sea and sky. I might have some yarn with these colors!

The Meetup - How I expressed myself

The next day, back in LA, we met up with the boyfriend’s family at an outdoor pizzeria. I’d already been told that this would be “interesting” because we come from very different backgrounds, so I was a bit apprehensive. I had decided to give the family something genuine and representative of our home, so once we’d been seated I handed over a small gift bag containing Michigan-made luxury soap and two of my hand-knitted dishcloths (including this cloth). Mom and Sister oohed and ahhed over the cloths while Dad made a joke about the soap, which had a decorative feature resembling a shard of beach glass. They seemed delighted.

While I’m glad I added the soap, I don’t think the gift would have carried the same impact if I hadn’t included the cloths. Their knotted yarn bridged that first awkward gap, providing easy conversation. Were their compliments genuine? I have no way of knowing, but I shared something of myself without apology. (More on that in a future article.)

Home now, I find myself reflecting on the trip and the lessons it offered: lessons about myself, my family, and my patterns of behavior with them. I’ll be changing how I respond to my sister’s requests for help and favors. I’ll be kinder to myself and won’t rehash every word I said to family members. I’ll try to find beauty in photos of myself instead of comparing my own shape to that of my svelte sister.

More Than an Afterthought: What Book I Experienced on the Train

Traveling by train is rocky and bumpy, so I didn’t read in an effort (successful, by the way) to avoid motion sickness. Instead, I re-listened to Phil Rickman’s Midwinter of the Spirit, Book 2 in the Merrily Watkins series. The audiobook is nice and long, and far enough removed from my reality to allow me to escape for a bit as I listened. I appear to be working my way through this series again, and when I’ve finished I’ll publish a series list that will contain some spoilers but might be useful for some.