Today, I made another little pouch.
Nothing complicated, just a simple one for tissue. The same yarn, the same hook, the same quiet rhythm in my hands.
And yet, it felt different.
Yesterday was about remembering. Today was about continuing.
There is something deeply comforting in repetition. Loop after loop, stitch after stitch, the mind settles, the body softens. I didn’t rush this piece. I let it grow slowly, just like how this part of me is returning after so many years.
It’s a simple pouch, but it carries more than function.
It carries patience.
It carries presence.
It carries a quiet sense of grounding I didn’t realise I needed.
As I worked, I found myself thinking less and feeling more. Just the yarn, the texture, the gentle movement of my hands. A kind of stillness that is hard to come by in everyday life.
And again, I thought of my mum.
How she created so effortlessly. How she turned yarn into something beautiful and useful at the same time. Today, in my own simple way, I feel like I am walking a small step in her footsteps.
I’m grateful for this second piece.
Grateful that I showed up again, even in a small way.
Grateful that something so simple can bring such quiet joy.
Maybe this is how we rebuild parts of ourselves.
Not in grand gestures, but in small, consistent acts of returning.
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