My Story

I was twenty nine years old in 1984 when I made my first pair of winter slippers. I was sitting in a small apartment with Christmas lights glowing in the window and more hope than money. I never imagined that one simple pair would shape the next forty years of my life or that thousands of people would one day wear something made by my hands.

For decades I woke up before sunrise, warmed my hands around a cup of tea and ran my fingers through soft winter yarn. Stitch after stitch and season after season I poured myself into every pair. I made slippers for newborns, for older couples, for families who returned every Christmas because it became their winter tradition. I made them for people I never met and for people who grew close to my heart.

Now at seventy my hands shake a little and I know it is time to slow down. It feels strange to say that I am retiring because crafting slippers never felt like a job. It felt like a quiet way of giving warmth and offering love without speaking too many words. Saying goodbye to this chapter is bittersweet but I am deeply grateful for every smile and every message from someone who found comfort in something I created.

This week I tied a ribbon around the final pair. The yarn was soft and familiar and the color a deep winter red that reminded me of the very first pair I made in 1984. I held them close for a long moment and felt the weight of all the years and all the winters that led me here.

These are my last slippers but the warmth I placed into them will continue to live on in homes and beside fireplaces and under Christmas trees and across cold morning floors. And as I finally set down my needles I carry the gentle joy of knowing that through all these winters I helped make the world a little warmer.