A Story About a Handknit Sweater

(Last Updated On: November 12, 2014)

Recently I completed some sweaters for my two sons. My boys both love wearing what I make for them (this might be the difference between sons and daughters). It made me think about boys and hand knit sweaters.

When I was a brand new freshman in college, I had a massive crush on a boy named Jamie. He was a junior. His hair was a little floppy in a pre Bieber way. Bangs tangled in his long lashes from time to time.  He and his equally great looking best friend, Crawford were enigmatic and dashing and the subject of many sighs in the freshman dorm.

Some of my friends preferred Crawford but Jamie was my boycrush of choice because of his sweater. A sweater that his grandma handknit for him. He wore it all the time. It was a heathery green color, not entirely unlike the green Alpaca blend that I used for my younger son’s sweater.  I chose the color because it matches my little guy’s eyes but the instant I saw it, I remembered Jamie’s sweater.

Somehow, and I cannot even remember now how it happened, at some point in the middle of my first semester I came into possession of that sweater.  I wore it home for Thanksgiving break.

It might bave been a sports jersey from a famous athlete or the concert tour tee of a popstar – it wouldn’t have been as good. It was Jamie’s sweater. That his grandma knit for him. We were connected now.

I remember explaining this to my best friend at the time. I hadn’t seen her in weeks. She was clearly not impressed. She was annoyed with me. More concerned about the night’s plans. What parties we’d attend. Who would be there. Who wouldn’t. With me gone, she’d not been going to a lot of parties.

I had deserted her.

I’d graduated early and jetted off to college and a world where there were boys like Jamie in their handknit sweateres.

Just to be generous, I let her try on the sweater. I let her wear it to the party we went to.

She didn’t get that it was Jamie’s sweater. That his grandma knit for him. But she got that it meant something to me, and that I let her wear it.

Then she got really drunk. Puking drunk. Hose her off in the driveway drunk.

Jamie’s sweater did not make it out unscathed. Nor did our friendship.

I handwashed that sweater a dozen times and then had it drycleaned and hand washed it again.

You couldn’t tell. You really couldn’t.

When I got back to school I couldn’t give it back to Jamie fast enough. It was suddenly a burden. This thing I shouldn’t have. Why did I have it anyways? Had I gotten it from Victoria who borrowed it from him? Did he even know I had it? Yeah he knew. He’d said to give it back whenever. Did he care?

I wasn’t even someone important to him. I was a girl. Just a silly girl. Who couldn’t even keep his special sweater that his grandma made for him, from getting barfed on.

Our deep connection wasn’t so deep after all.

I don’t remember ever speaking to Jamie again after I gave back the sweater. I certainly couldn’t meet his long lashed gaze when I saw him wearing it. Would he be angry if he knew the truth about the sweater’s fate? Or was he maybe that kind of asshole who doesn’t care about sweaters his grandma makes for him, and it’d be no big deal?

I couldn’t decide which was worse. I didn’t want to find out.

These are the things you think about when you knit sweaters for your handsome little boys. This and the fact that they must know – never lend those sweaters to a girl. Do you hear me boys?!

Disclosure: Yarn for this project was generously supplied by Lion Brand Yarn. I’m in love with the Alpaca Blend from Martha Stewart. It knits up super duper fast and I used this raglan sleeve sweater pattern from their site without making any modifications.