Last night, I finished crocheting a blanket. Prior to now, I’ve made a few blankets…but this is my first to make from “granny squares.”

This blanket started in Maine, when my parents came to explore the northeast and peep at some leaves. Sitting in a quiet, coastal AirBnB…making a blanket seemed like the thing to do. On our next trip into town, I picked up some yarn and a hook.

That weekend, I started a pile of granny squares. Back in New Hampshire, I ran out of gray yarn. During a trip into Conway for some rock climbing, I persuaded my friends to stop at the store so that I could get some more yarn.

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From Maine to New Hampshire to Montreal to Tennessee to Arkansas…and back to Vermont. With bouncing dogs and playful cats (not mine). In breweries and cabins. Sitting in noisy kitchens or on quiet couches with friends. This blanket has been with me for three months, slowly coming together. At any point in time, all I had to show for my work was a bag full of crochet squares.

This blanket – the squares – it all reminds me of my life. There are all of these random pieces, completely disconnected. And I just keep trying to find a way to put all of it together.

A passion for kids. A skill for teaching. A love of the outdoors. A constant need to do something different. A refusal to sit at a desk all day. A fear of settling.

All of that (and more) brought me to this new adventure…to Vermont…to teach in an outdoor preschool. It starts tomorrow and I am all sorts of terrified. I am overwhelmed at the prospect of trying something so far beyond what I’ve done in the past. But at the same time, I see how this fits right in with everything I’ve done up to this point.

And that makes me more excited than overwhelmed.