I've made some mistakes in my knitting. I've knit when I should have purled, ignored swatches, dropped stitches, and elaborated on pattern instructions - much to my woe a few rows further.
This sweater has not been exempt. I'm not an advanced knitter. I am only a few sweaters further than over-dressing my family in the numerous scarves and hats that are stuffed in baskets by our back door. And this sweater is one that needs my full attention. Not something I can do as often as I'd like to believe. So I've made some mistakes. I've cursed them, recounted stitches and unknitted a few rows at a time. Still, I pursue. Partly because I adore the yarn and the pattern and the end result of two sticks and some knots, and partly because like most mistakes... it can be hard to undo them.
And so I knit two together here and there to get back to where I should be, and ignore the place where the yarn should zig but really it's zagging. And it's all going to be just fine. Because what's life without those mistakes? How would you recognize and learn from them, except when you discover the holes you have made? Sure you can rip it all apart - and I have ripped projects, weeping and swearing and pouring a very full glass of wine.. but this sweater, it seems to represent more than that. I couldn't bear to just rip it up.
So instead, I will sigh and press on, determined and counting and recounting and increasing and decreasing until I find myself where I want to be. Happy with my work, and warm. Will it be a perfect sweater? No. But who wants a perfect sweater anyways? And, like many learned mistakes in life, it becomes a part of the pattern that makes up who you are.
In the famous words of Elizabeth Zimmerman, The Opinionated Knitter;
"Knit On, with confidence and hope, through all crises."