I learned to crochet when I was eight years old and to knit when I was twelve. I come from a very crafty family. My grandfather was a tailor, and my grandmother was a shopkeeper. Still, every bit of free time she had, she spent crocheting. She worked constantly.
I always remember her as old—because she truly was old. I believe she retired around the age of fifty-five, before I was born, so I never actually saw her working, even though she had worked since she was a child. What I remember most vividly is her sitting in her favorite chair, watching Hispanic soap operas while crocheting.
She never used a pattern in her life. She would simply look at you, and before you knew it, she had created a sweater or jacket that fit you perfectly. To me, it was pure magic.
My mother taught me how to knit, and she also owned knitting machines. I remember sitting on the floor, watching her create what felt like miracles on her Passap knitting machine, and then assembling the pieces by hand.
I remember sitting on the floor, watching my mother create what felt like miracles on her Passap knitting machine, and then assembling the pieces on her very old Singer pedal sewing machine.
As I grew up, however, crocheting and knitting no longer seemed “cool.” None of my friends knew how to do it. In Guatemala, where I was born, we were required to take Home Economics classes, which included knitting, sewing, and cooking, among other things. Still, I slowly drifted away from my craft passion. I just wanted to fit in. Life got in the way.
It wasn’t until I moved to the United States that I returned to my first love: knitting. My second job was as a packer and picker for a catalog company. I was on my feet all day, walking nearly six miles around the warehouse, and then coming home to care for my three-year-old daughter. I was exhausted and overwhelmed. And since I didn’t have money for a therapist, I picked up my knitting needles again—and that decision saved my life.
Crocheting followed, and not long after, my husband gave me my first knitting machine for my birthday: the Ultimate Sweater Machine, a basic plastic flat-bed machine from the early 21st century. I couldn’t figure out how to use the darn thing no matter how hard I tried, so I packed it up and stored it in the attic closet (how cliché).
Many years later, I found a Brother home knitting machine on eBay, and it changed my life. Today, I own about eight knitting machines—circular machines, metal beds, electronic and plastic machines, a Big Phil, a Silver Reed, several Brother machines, and a circular sock knitting machine. I even learned how to use the Ultimate Sweater Machine. I use them all regularly, and I love every single one of them.
This year, I began publishing YouTube videos to help others rediscover this incredible art and craft, in both English and Spanish.
If you’re overwhelmed by stress and need something that pulls you away from everyday worries, try knitting, crocheting, sewing, scrapbooking, or cooking. It doesn’t really matter what it is, as long as it brings you joy. Take it from me—it works.
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