Back in June, I redid a set of shelves that used to be in the parts department of my grandparents' store that I rescued from their garage after my grandfather died. (I chatted about it here.) For over three months, it sat in our bedroom empty.
Saturday, I filled it.*
The dividers are filled with handknit socks, both mine and Andrew's. (The vast majority are mine, if I'm honest.)
The shelf under the dividers and part of the top shelf houses my knitting books. The magazines, binders with loose patterns, and Vogue Stitchionaries I kept in the guest room where they were. All the other books I moved to this shelf.
On the floor at the very bottom is a stuffed sheep I bought in Israel on a trip in college. I wasn't a knitter then, and I'm not sure what drew me to this stuffed sheep. Maybe a touch of prescience? The basket is one Andrew's aunt helped me make. It was on the gift table at our wedding to hold cards. Now it holds leftover cotton yarn.
On the very top, I put a set of rainbow-colored test tubes given to me by a friend. In the test tubes are knitting needles that belonged to my grandma.
I miss my grandparents a lot. I dreamed about being in their house last night. It's been nearly nine months since Grandfather died. I know it's getting easier, but it's in no way easy yet. Maybe this is as easy as it gets.
*Let's take a moment to recognize how awesome Andrew is for not minding that there's now a set of shelves filled with yarn and knitting related stuff in our bedroom.