I decided to travel without knitting, mostly because I didn’t have a good project to carry along and partly because I didn’t know when I would have time and partly because I was worried I wouldn’t seem sufficiently serious taking knitting on what St. Casserole has called a “mission of mercy.”
But my hands want to be making something, and my eye wants to see colors and textures and discern what they might become. Knitting, after all, is prayer time for me.
When during lunch my hostess pulled a coupon from Michael’s out of her purse and I saw the yarn sale on the reverse of the flyer, I found I was eager to go and see what might be had.
There were many full bins of the yarns that would be sparse at home in Snow Country’s City By the Sea, the bulky wools and wool blends. For the first time my eyes lit with interest on ribbon yarn. I had a notion that I would like to make something for my friend, for she is now an incarnate friend instead of a whimsical figment of my imagination, and although I brought her a Prayer Shawl from Small Church, it was not of my own making.
Ribbon yarn is also whimsical. You wonder how it can become anything at all. It’s terrible to cast on and begin knitting if you haven’t done it before. It’s difficult to get the tension just right. And although ginger kittens are eager to assist, they are, not surprisingly, as helpful as a cat.
Finally I got it started, and my image of what it might have been has been far surpassed by the reality.
Today we are going to New Orleans. We will meet a sorority sister of mine who lives outside Baton Rouge at the Café du Monde. My Theta sister of long ago lived in New Orleans right after college and has, like my newfound sister, memories and history that I do not. Today I am making memories. I will drink coffee and eat the first beignets of my life. And tucked into my purse, I have the address of a nearby yarn shop that has re-opened.