Hi — I’m Donna.
I learned to crochet from my mom, Loretta. Not in a fancy, Pinterest way — just real life: sitting near her, listening to the TV in the background, watching her hands move like they knew something mine didn’t yet.
When Alzheimer’s enters the room
My mom lived with Alzheimer’s for more than a decade. And if you haven’t been close to it, it’s hard to describe: it’s not one big moment — it’s a thousand small ones. A name that takes longer to come. A story that repeats. A look on someone’s face when they realize they can’t remember what used to be easy.
You keep showing up anyway. You keep loving them anyway. You celebrate what’s still there. And you find little ways to hold onto the person behind the disease.
Stitch by stitch… I stayed close
Crochet became my way of keeping her near. When life felt heavy, I’d tell myself: one more row. And then another. Afghans galore. Scarves. Little projects that turned into bigger ones. Some came out lopsided, some were perfect — and all of them carried the same thing: love.
Crochet is kind of like life: repetitive, patient, forgiving. You mess up? You pull it back and start again. You don’t quit just because a row isn’t perfect. That mindset got me through a lot.