I was in the nursing home yesterday, and noticed a tiny woman sitting there. She looked frail, worn thin, disinterested. No matter what the staff did, they couldn’t get her to perk up or show any positive response. So one of them handed her a little toy collie with a thick swatch of green knitted fabric tied onto its back as if it was a dog sweater. She accepted it halfheartedly, held it for a bit, then did something that just slightly amazed me. She took the soft, knitted swatch off the dog, held it in her hand and looked at it, then softly leaned her cheek against it. The look she gave that green fabric was almost like an inaudible sigh of relief. Or perhaps it was weariness. But it seemed to me that with the company of this little hand-knit, this inconsolable little woman, in some small way, rested. It made me want to knit more.
This morning as I rode the bus to work, I noticed a pretty, white lace beret slowly slipping off the back of a girl's head. She got off the bus with me, hat still intact, but slipping ever closer to being lost in the wet street. In a moment of desperation, I called over the din of raging traffic until I got her attention, rescuing her hat from certain destruction. Don't worry, we are all fine.
The things a knitter does for a bit of lace.
All in a day's work.