Ever year when the warm weather turns cool, my thoughts turn to a certain fuzzy little maroon scarf sitting in a trunk in our guest room. That might seem like an odd place to keep your scarves, and it is—unless yours are like mine; unfinished.

This poor little unfinished ball of yarn has so much lost its identity as a scarf or even a “work in progress” that it has become instead a seasonal decoration I pull out when the leaves begin to change.

I used to bring it out with excitement, placing it in very obvious spots around the house with the intention of finishing it. Now, I bring it out of its plastic bag for a little fresh air and because it looks nice in my bedroom.

I don’t have any more grand ideas about finishing it for a Christmas present for some very lucky recipient. In fact, if I do finish it, I think it should be inducted into a museum in my honor (post-mortem of course) with various artifacts from my life. Or at least placed on a shelf with my soccer trophies. (Okay, those are in a box in my parents garage, but you know what I mean.) After all, who could possibly bear or wear the honor of a work of art eight years in the making?

I should rephrase: who would want to?

Let’s back up a minute. Yes, I just said eight years in the making. EIGHT. Eight years ago I was a senior in college. Now I am married with two children. A lot has happened in my life in eight years. Unfortunately, the scarf cannot say the same. It has had a rather boring existence of getting shuffled from drawer, to trunk, to basket and back again. It has not seen the light of day or felt the crisp wind flow through its fibers— because it’s still attached to two needles.

Like most projects it started with lots of enthusiasm and good intentions. It was Christmas break and a few of my friends were hanging out. Then one friend got an idea. Someone always has to get an idea. “Let’s have a girls night and bake cookies, watch Christmas movies and knit scarves!” She excitedly tapped her palms together and shot us an infectious smile.

As you know, it’s not hard to convince women to get together to watch movies and eat cookies. At the time, even the idea of knitting a scarf sounded fun. At the time. So we gleefully piled into her gray hooptie of an Oldsmobile and drove to Michael’s craft store where we wandered the isles in search of the perfect yarn, crooning along with the Christmas carols playing over the loudspeaker.

We found our yarn, bought our needles, and went back to her house and watched movies, made cookies, and began knitting scarves. For the rest of my friends that’s about where the story ends. A few days or weeks later, they finished their scarves and were proudly flaunting them like Julia Roberts et al, as part of the knitting craze to hit the U.S. in ’01- ’03.

Some of them even became real knitters and went on the greater things such as hats. They became knitters who could knit while watching T.V. I, on the other hand, either had to knit, or watch T.V. My attempt to do both landed me in the unfortunate position of having to start all over again as my scarf became triangular in shape.

The story and the scarf was far from over for me. Little did I know that scarf, that one long piece of yarn gently (or not so gently) wrapped around two needles would end up following me around in a basket for eight years.

So I know it must sound crazy, given my history and my self proclaimed title as a non-knitter, to say that I am actually thinking of working on it one of these nights once the kiddos are in bed. But, I am. What can I say, I live on the edge. Or maybe I’m just getting carried away with new years resolutions!