I knitted this scarf for three weeks. For the first time in my life, I picked up knitting needles because I saw mustard-colored yarn in the store and couldn't resist.

The first evening, I watched the same video over and over again five times. I couldn't understand how the stitch worked, why it kept slipping, or what was going on. On the second evening, I resigned myself to the fact that the first few rows would be crooked. On the third, I got hooked 🧣.

The most unexpected thing is the feeling you get when you sit and count stitches. For a moment, the world ceases to exist. There are only yarn, knitting needles, and rhythm. I didn't think about work, about plans, about how I wasn't getting it done. I was just knitting.

Somewhere in the middle, the scarf started to resemble a crooked oval. I almost gave up hope. Then I unraveled a couple of rows, re-examined the pattern, and continued. And when I finished, I realized it wasn't about the scarf.

It's about the fact that I can finish what I start. Even if it turns out crooked. Even if it takes longer than expected. Even if I feel like giving up halfway through 🤍.

Now I'm looking for yarn for the next one. And I'm no longer afraid that it won't work out.