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Mother's stick needle
Author / Water Static
Originally published in the city supplement of Xiamen Daily
In the dresser drawer, there lay a pair of stick needles: fourteen, made of bamboo, more than a foot long, with two pointed round ends in the middle, tied with red wool, and the color was bright. It was my mother's relic, my father had cut it, and I treasured it. There is also a sweater that my mother knitted for me 33 years ago, which I wore once after graduating from high school, and now it is my treasure. Seeing things and thinking about people, things are people and not things, and tears flow first.
Courtesy of the author
On a winter night, under the dim kerosene lamp, in front of the warm fire, is the figure of the mother buried in the weaving. The big bean light and the faint charcoal fire reflect the mother's kind face. A few strands of hair on her forehead were already faintly white. Her dancing fingers and attentive gaze, as well as the throbbing ball of thread, are the most memorable and longest-remembered vivid "pictures" in my Chinese New Year's Eve. Sticks and needles, wool danced with her mother's fingers on her chest, she seemed to be magical, but in a few days, colorful and colorful sweaters, sweaters, hats, scarves, gloves, socks and shoes were born one after another, which was a "weapon" for the family to withstand the cold in winter.
At that time, I would pestered my mother like a scoundrel and begged her to teach me this method of "magic". Mother responded: I will teach you when you are older. Then settled me down across from her and watched her knit. Sometimes, she would tell me stories and sing nursery rhymes while weaving. I watched, listened, and fell asleep on her knees.
I remember one time, my mother and I worked together to wind up a ball of yarn. She hung the woolen coils on both wrists, and then pushed them open with force, and I was responsible for sorting out the threads and wrapping them around the ball. I wrapped my hands around the wire, and my mother turned her arms to release the line. At first, the two of us cooperated tacitly, until the line ball was as big as the ball, and my small hand was not easy to grasp, and if I was not careful, I would slip to the ground. I chased around the leg of the Eight Immortals table several times, but I didn't "catch" it. The mother hurried to free her hand to help, and the coils that had been tight in her arms instantly collapsed and stirred into a ball.
Once, I asked my mother, why do I have to knit sweaters in winter? Mother said that spring, summer, autumn, harvest and winter are the laws of nature, and only in winter will we farmers have less outdoor work and have time to calm down and do indoor handicraft work. Besides, in winter, no sweating, no stick needles, and fast and good knitting sweaters.
In the years of material poverty, a sweater had to be worn for several generations, and the large sweater was torn apart and woven into a small sweater, and the small sweater could not be worn and changed into a hat, scarf or sock. Children are full moons, young people are married, and adults are sent cloth or wool on birthdays. Most of the sticks and needles used to knit sweaters are bamboo skewers. Wooden skewers are easy to break, copper skewers are heavy, aluminum skewers will fade, stainless steel is too slippery, cold in winter, and the feel is not good. Do bamboo stick needles are exquisite, what years of bamboo is available, how long bamboo knots are good, how to make it tough and not moldy, these are the father to pinch, because he knows bamboo best.
From ordinary velvet thread to a variety of rice, mohair, wool, short needles, medium needles, long needles into flat needles, lock needles, jumping needles, yuanbao needles... Flowers, birds and beasts character text, auspicious cloud pattern, wave pattern, swastika pattern, ruyi pattern, shou character pattern... Endless. My mother and sister are like good painters, the stick needle is their dancing brush, playing in the items they wear, and the knitwear they create is an eternal treasure left to the family.
A few simple sticks and needles, thin and long ordinary wool, under the skillful hands of my mother, so magically transformed into such colorful items, I was very curious in my childhood, and I felt even more difficult in middle age, and I had an incomparable admiration and admiration for my mother. The mother's stick needle, one end picks up the wool, the other picks up the family burden. What balances each other is great maternal love that goes deep into the marrow.
author
Yu Yuyou, pen name Shui Jing, is a member of the Fujian Writers Association and a member of the Whole Committee of the Xiamen Writers Association. The article has been scattered in major newspapers and periodicals and networks at home and abroad. He has published a collection of essays, "About Xiamen", "Encounter" (collection) and so on.
Readers
Zhao Ci, FM89.2 Jimei Radio Host, Director of Jimei District Recitation Art Association.
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Editor: Chen Shaoying Zeng Xinyue Class Teacher: Cai Pingping
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