I’m just going to go ahead and admit that I did not feel like writing last night. I hadn’t had time earlier in the day. I had a good topic, knew what I wanted to say, sort of, but I was just too tired to write it well. I don’t know if “do overs” are allowed, but I need to try it. I woke up around 2 a.m. and I kept thinking about how bad the writing in my post was. I had all sorts of revisions running through my head. It would have been great to write those lines down- I liked them. But by morning I could not remember what I had composed in the middle of the night.
So here goes…
Last night I worked up all of my courage and went back to knitting group. We meet monthly but I haven’t been in a long time. The other three women in the group know why I’ve been gone. I just wanted to slip back in, unnoticed, and rejoin the calm and comforting conversation and creative energy I’ve come to love. We sat in front of the fire, and pulled out our projects. We had a good laugh about the fact that I am still working on the same sock I was knitting last Spring.
The usual rituals unfolded. We took time to admire one another’s work, to oh and ah about new yarns and interesting patterns for future projects. Someone poured wine into pretty antique glasses, and we sipped slowly, needles clicking and conversations ebbing and flowing.
We are four different women- who span three decades in age. Our small group includes two grandmothers, one mother of teenagers and one recently returned Peace Corps volunteer. We love to knit but our monthly evenings are about so much more than knitting.