Hey, you who got my knitted gift—every stitch tells your story
For many, knitting a gift is a way to remember, but for me it’s a way to love, writes producer Annette Saksman.
Every now and then, someone asks if they can commission me to knit something—perhaps a pair of basic socks or something more complex. Though I take it as a compliment, I almost always turn them down. I might say I’m busy, but the truth is that I simply don’t want to knit on request; I want to knit out of my own desire.
When I knit, I think about the recipient—truly with every stitch. In a way, they’re already part of the process from the moment I choose the yarn. As I work, I think about what I’d like to give them—or say to them. Often, the message is simple: you’re on my mind, and I want to take care of you.
My friends and their children have received countless little jackets, booties, and caps. It’s been wonderful to surprise a friend expecting her first child with a handmade knit and then receive photos of the newborn wearing it.
Over the years, my partners have grown used to the output of my workshop—sometimes a bit clumsy but always made with love. These days, I hope my work is neat enough that they don’t have to put on my garments grudgingly. Most recently, I knitted a scarf while in a long-distance relationship, in which the other person wasn’t part of my everyday life. I chose the colors carefully and imagined how the scarf would keep them warm in a place I couldn’t be.
While knitting those socks, I held on, stitch by stitch, to something that was slipping away from me.
I’ve knitted for those, who’ve stayed in my life for a long time, and for those who only passed through. I’ve knitted out of love, and even when that love had already ended.
Once, I knitted socks even though an inevitable breakup was right around the corner. Stitch by stitch, I held on to something that was slipping from my grasp. I wanted to give those socks as a thank-you for the years we shared and to say what I couldn’t in that difficult moment: I value you, and you still matter.
I wanted to make and give those breakup socks, but there have also been gift knits in my life that felt especially heavy to work on—usually because my relationship with the recipient was conflicted in some way. Such a knit progresses slowly or remains unfinished. I’ve learned that a forced gift doesn’t bring joy.
Knitted gifts can meet any fate. Some people still wear the garment I gave them, while others may never have used it at all. Maybe it ended up in the back of a closet or at a flea market, or maybe it simply wore out. In the end, that isn’t what matters.
If you’ve received a knitted piece from me, it means you were important to me at that moment in my life—even if I didn’t know how to say it out loud.
