Over the course of the next few years my mother made afghans of all sizes and colors for just about everyone she knew – relatives, friends, neighbors, the children and grandchildren of friends and neighbors, even the parish priest. There were extra-large afghans that could be used as bedspreads, and smaller versions intended as throws. Some were made in one piece. Others were made of individual blocks which were put together in strips. The strips were then crocheted together to complete the project. One of my favorite designs was made of individual blocks that each held a three-dimensional rose at its center. She made a few of those, one of which I still have.
My mother carefully chose the yarns and designs to suit the person she had chosen as the recipient. Bright colors for friends who helped brighten her days, greens and browns for the men, and soft pastels for the babies.
During those years I brought home several boyfriends, but only one received an afghan. Maybe it was because he stuck around the longest, but just maybe it was my mother’s intuition that told her that he was “the one.” That boyfriend became my husband whom I have been married to for almost 38 years.