The view out the airplane window was interesting enough to distract me from my knitting. We were flying over Lake Michigan straight into a fiery sunset. Tiny pinpricks of light began appearing along the coast, their motion revealing familiar landmarks. I-43. Lake Drive. Marquette Interchange.

I stuffed my knitting back into my bag and waited for the landing.

My suitcase held an ambitious eight balls of yarn for a ten-day stay. Six skeins of Cascade 220 and two skeins of Tahki Cotton Classic. I didn’t expect to finish both projects, but to make a significant dent, surely, much as I did over Christmas.

I think I was clinging to hope that this trip home would turn out to be equally carefree.

I hadn’t planned on coming home, not yet anyways, and definitely not under these circumstances.

About three weeks ago I learned that my dad has been diagnosed with metastatic lung cancer.

My dad, a never-smoker from a line of people who live to be 90 and 100 years old, and with no history of cancer anywhere in the family, has the #1 cancer killer for both men and women.

So instead of knitting, I’ve been reading. Steve Dunn’s Cancer Guide. Bloch Cancer Foundation. OncTalk. The list of web sites is endless. I’ve spent hours abusing my university library privileges and downloading article after article from medical journals.

Instead of knitting, I’ve been cooking and cleaning and helping my parents put family affairs in order.

Instead of knitting, I’ve been going with my dad to appointment after appointment. Oncologist. Radiologist. Neurologist.

And then I knit. I knit before seeing the doctor, after seeing the doctor, before procedure X, between procedures X and Y. I knit thoughts of hope and health into the brightly-colored stitches. Red for luck, yellow for vitality. And maybe for Vitamin C to boost the immune system.

I knit, hoping that these knitting memories will turn out to be good ones.

Despite having three projects on the needles already, I decided to cast on for one more:

The exact nature of this object cannot be divulged at this time, as it is a gift. Wild speculation is welcome, of course.

One sweater, for child age 1.
Five hats, for infants 0-18 months.
One pair of mittens, for child age 2-4.

Bon voyage, handknits! Keep some kiddies warm!

If you’re thinking about participating in the Mother’s Day drive for Afghans for Afghans, the US deadline has been extended until May 25.