That same couple–and their baby, whom I hadn’t seen since she was an infant, 11 months old now and almost walking; she and I played for quite awhile. Peek a boo! *giggle giggle giggle*
And Penny and her husband, too.
She had been diagnosed with lymphoma shortly after I knitted her that shawl, and it was a comfort through all those months of treatment and solitude as her chemo-battered immune system could tolerate no risks for months and months.
That yarn had known exactly whose it was from the get-go.
And so I have already decided what I really will make for the person I’d been aiming towards, while this? I don’t know. I just know I have to knit it. Monday, when I rescued its UFOness from oblivion, I actually only had the first four rows on the needles; now it’s halfway done.
She reached to touch the Findley yarn and exclaimed, Ooooh! As she did so, I suddenly knew: this was exactly the pattern I had knit for her.
Everything came together in good will from both of us in that moment towards whomever it holds in its future.
Monday, it was going to be a different pattern in the body but my counting was off, and so…
I told Penny in mock indignation, My knitting bosses me around! She guffawed–she knew. Hers does too.
I’m curious to see what will come next with this. I do know that yarn time is in its own variable universe.