Cashmere Superior with Malabrigo Lace, shades of green. I wanted it supersoft. I knitted a lace scarf for the wife of a childhood friend after finding out they lived not too terribly far away and that his work brings him to my town once a week.

But then I had a bad attack of shy and it sat there. We hadn’t seen each other since we were 18; it’s easy to feel awkward barging in on someone’s attention like that.

The last two weeks put a lot of things in perspective, though, and it felt like it was time. I sent him a message after I got my biopsy report (I wanted to have that sense of relief first), explaining what I’d made, about the shyness thing and saying as how vanity concentrates the mind; given that I was about to lose some hair off my scalp permanently–while I still looked like me, would it be okay to schedule a get-together?

He was delighted. Today was the day. I drove over. After he got off work, we talked for awhile, and then his wife arrived and joined us and we were all old friends together as if it had always been so all around. She’s a peach, and I am so happy for both of them; they’re a great couple. The kind of people who, when you step into their presence, you are instantly home.

And come to find out, through the years we had forged connection after small-world connection with no idea till just then. And even just this week we were forging more.

When I answered his question about where Michelle’s internship was, his jaw hit the floor and he stared. He named her bosses. Close friends of theirs.

The person I’d mailed a shawl off to last week–dear, dear mentor to him and a  friend of his dad. Known her for years.

When his wife came, the twinkle in his eye as he just waited for her reaction–she’d been reading my blog, she’d read about that chocolate torte, yes–and then, listening to him, she turned to me and went, WAIT. *YOU* made HER birthday cake?! (And then she laughed, going, “Yes, she really did have a horrible rotten no–good I think I’ll move to Australia kind of day.”)

And Cheryl, I found out today, is a knitter. They now have a copy of my book, autographed with great delight. I am now a proud owner of “Feeding Baby Green,” autographed with great delight.

And I on sudden impulse on my way out the door had stashed a copy of a book by, as it happens, that mentor in my knitting bag, having no idea.  They didn’t currently have a copy of it. They now have it. I apologized that I hadn’t had time to find a more pristine copy.

Too amazing. Too wonderful. To life!