Afghan Identity

My nuclear family didn’t do afghans. But everyone around it did. Aunts, grandmothers, cousins, and friends crocheted afghans right along with scarves, mittens, and toilet seat and paper covers. At first I was embarrassed by their gifts, but later realized that my identity was created within the rainbow web of yarn. Even now, as I solicit afghans from my circle of friends, they are loaned grudgingly and only after I promise not to damage them. Their hearts, too, beat within them.