By Abigail Traska

Sitting. Knitting. Counting. Row 34. Add a stitch. 34. Another. 34. Another. 34. 

Finish the row. Switch hands. 35. Add a stitch. 35.

I want to make a sweater. I’ve never made one before. It won’t come out perfect, but that’s not the point. All these squares are 20 by 20. Every row has a front and a back. Cast on. Cast off. I’m missing a piece; a darning needle, to attach the squares into something I can wear. Not that I will—I don’t like the yarn. I just like how it feels in my hands. Switch. 36.

I’m 20 years old. I’m only 20. I’m already 20. If I count by the day, it feels endless. 20 years is a long time. It’s still only 20. More will come after this. More has come before than any I can imagine. I’m not the first person to knit 20 rows of 20 stitches. I’m doing it anyway, because what else can I do with my hands? I can see the stitches on the needles. A clear start, and a clear end—or there will be. Days and years stretch backwards into infinity. Ahead of me is only a blue skein of yarn and a pair of orange needles. At least this way I can count my progress.

Abigail Traska (they/them) ‘25 is a psychology & creative writing major. They have written for campus publications The OutCrowd and The Daily Orange previously, and are on their third term on Pride Union’s executive board, serving as the president for the 2024-2025 academic year. They enjoy every act of creation placed at their fingertips: writing, drawing, cooking, and otherwise enjoying the creations of others.