My Grandma D. used to crochet. Slippers, tea cozies, those odd boxes that folks sometimes slip over Kleenex ™ boxes on commodes… She used to knit kitschy stuff.
When I was sixteen – the big One Six – she gave me a gift. A gift of hangers that had been slip-covered, if you will, in yarn. Not a half-dozen or so, no, but forty or so. A huge box of yarn-covered hangers. For my “Hopeless Chest.” (I started my Hope Chest as a teen. Yep. I was one of those girls.)
I smiled and thanked her in all politeness, as expected. I was an entirely well-mannered young lady.
It took me a long, long time to really appreciate these hangers. They get dirty, yes, and take up a great deal of space while hanging up in a closet. Over the years, some of them have unraveled and been bent and so on…
I have come to really appreciated these hangers. The yarn keeps the edges from being sharp and letting knit and cotton garments become malformed. They’re great for hanging shirts to dry in good shape, too. Finally, the yarn “grips” soft fabric, so that tops and dresses don’t slide from a hanger and land on the floor.
Silly things, perhaps, but I am thankful for all of them.
Grandma D. died more than twenty years ago. I believe I will see her again, one day. And when I do, I will thank her for the hangers – with a more sincere heart than I did almost thirty years ago.