I got to work early today, and the sun was shining, so I settled myself on a nearby bench and pulled out my knitting. As I was working on it, a woman stopped and asked me if I was knitting. When I told her I was, she started to tell me her story.
Her mother had made her a bulky sweater-coat once, and she used to wear it under her regular coat for extra warmth. But the coat had been lost in the move from New York, and her mother was now deceased. What she wouldn't give, she said, for that coat again.
I could see in her eyes that it wasn't about the knitting -- obviously. It was to have something her mother had made for her with love. Seeing me knit was the chance for her to remember.
I thanked her for sharing her story, because how can you not? It was so touching that she was willing to share that with me, a complete stranger.
I wondered what had happened to the coat when she'd walked away. I figure it ended up in a thrift store somewhere. I always get so sad when I see handmade items in thrift stores, because I figure someone stopped loving them. But that can't always be true. Some things out there are loved and missed, and what we wouldn't give to have them back.
(If you've come across a bulky hand-knit sweater-coat in a thrift store in New York, please message me!)
(And if that story depressed you, here: have a link to some crocheted pug butts.)