Transitions

102_1952

Leaf opening. Transition from Winter to Spring.

Transitions–I struggle with them–and this transition back to the bench has been no exception!  Actually, transition is too meek and mild–how about gauntlet or obstacle course?  First, I went to the yarn store yesterday and there was a gaping hole in the shelf were the ocean yarn used to sit in its cozy little basket.  I had this horrible pit in my stomach when we checked the distribution center online and found that they were out of ocean yarn too.  The thought of having to introduce a new color this late in the project was pretty hard for me to stomach.  But my intrepid cashier lady decided to check and see if someone had stashed Ocean yarn in an unexpected place.  Sure enough, she found about 6 skeins on top of one of the aisles in “over stock.”  I bought 3 pounds worth just for my peace of mind.  That should last me to the end of the project.

Today, I arrived at 16th and Taylor eager to start my knit.  I went and looked for the hose reel in the storage space where I had left it at E. and G.’s house, and it was gone!  Then I knocked loudly on E. and G.’s front door several times to no avail.  I started berating myself for leaving everything so last minute, and not alerting my neighbors that I planned start knitting again today–what if they had taken off for Europe or India?  I wouldn’t put it past them.  I checked E’s meditation shed in the backyard to see if, by chance, he had stowed it in there–the knitting certainly has lots of positive energy, I thought only half-joking to myself–but it wasn’t there.

At a complete loss, I decided just to sit on the bench and meditate without knitting.  This certainly wasn’t how I envisioned my first day back.  After just a few minutes, G. came out her front door and gave me a big hug!  I told her I had knocked several times on their door but she hadn’t heard me…”No one uses the front door,” she said.  Then E. came out to join her and Buster on their morning walk.  He seemed a bit flustered when G. told him I needed my hose reel.  “Put those down, you’ll need both hands,” he told me so I left my backpack and purse and obediently followed him down the path that winds around the side of the house past the strawberry patch.  At the back of the house, he pushed opened a heavy brown door to what looked like a wine cellar or prison cell and hoisted himself down into it.  It was dark and cramped but my hose reel was there.  He lifted it up the two feet to me and I pulled it out and up.  I gazed adoringly down at the hose reel full of ocean yarn–my eyes will never grow tired of that delirious blue color…I sat down to knit and moments later, Candy pulled up looking dwarfed by her huge blue truck.  “It’s good to have you back,” she said.  D. emerged with his arms spread open wide to give me a “16th and Taylor welcome.”  The Hiker approached and said, “Hi Christen.  This certainly is nice weather we’re having” but he didn’t stick around to chat because C. popped out in her fluorescent pink shorts, and gave me a hug and sat down for a little visit.  C. said.  “Welcome home,” she said.  Sweet relief.

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