Tragedy and Tears in the Desert
Dear Blog-
The unthinkable has happened and my whole world has changed. You read about these horrible tragedies that occur, and while you feel a certain degree of human sympathy for the innocent victims - and who could not? - you don't understand what a life-changing event it is until you experience such a thing yourself. How on one side of the divide your life jogs along in the old way, and in the next instant, in just an eye-blink, everything has changed. Such a tragedy has befallen your devastated correspondant, Dear Blog.
Last week I went into work to teach, and I proudly brought along two of my knitted and felted pears to show off to our shop owner. I think all knitters know that it is true that you can admire a photo of a knitted thing greatly, but even such true admiration pales beside the emotions one experiences when face to face with the real thing. So I thought I would lighten the day of everyone I encountered, and show them my knitted and felted pears in the flesh, so to speak. I handed two of them to Lynn and said, This is the one I made according to the original directions, and here is the one that I did my way. Well! Need I even say that she was truly admiring and fell on them with a glad cry - of course she was and of course she did - and I went back to the classroom with a skip in my step and a song in my heart for having made someone's day. I enjoyed a very pleasant session of teaching, and it was only on my return to the front of the shop that I realized that I had taken the fatal steps that would lead me to my own deep and tragic loss.
I came upon Lynn once again petting the pears fondly, as I had left her two hours before, and with a glowing countenance she declared that she had been planning to bring the small display cabinet back out to the front counter, and these pears are going to look wonderful on top of the display case! My God! What have I done???
What could I say, Dear Blog? I'm a youngest child. I never had anything of my own that wasn't someone else's first. When I wasn't just a way station for toys and clothes that were taking a small rest on their journey to the person after me. I've never given a thing up with grace, even now in my late 40s. But I couldn't just wrest them out of her hands, could I? I couldn't say, No! Those are MY pears! Give them back! Then push her down and take them away, sobbing all the while. Could I?
So I guess I am just going to have to knit and felt more pears, even as I plot the eventual liberation of the felted pears I have lost. At least I have photos to remember their dear selves by.
SOB! I must end this missive now, I am too torn up to write any further...
The unthinkable has happened and my whole world has changed. You read about these horrible tragedies that occur, and while you feel a certain degree of human sympathy for the innocent victims - and who could not? - you don't understand what a life-changing event it is until you experience such a thing yourself. How on one side of the divide your life jogs along in the old way, and in the next instant, in just an eye-blink, everything has changed. Such a tragedy has befallen your devastated correspondant, Dear Blog.
Last week I went into work to teach, and I proudly brought along two of my knitted and felted pears to show off to our shop owner. I think all knitters know that it is true that you can admire a photo of a knitted thing greatly, but even such true admiration pales beside the emotions one experiences when face to face with the real thing. So I thought I would lighten the day of everyone I encountered, and show them my knitted and felted pears in the flesh, so to speak. I handed two of them to Lynn and said, This is the one I made according to the original directions, and here is the one that I did my way. Well! Need I even say that she was truly admiring and fell on them with a glad cry - of course she was and of course she did - and I went back to the classroom with a skip in my step and a song in my heart for having made someone's day. I enjoyed a very pleasant session of teaching, and it was only on my return to the front of the shop that I realized that I had taken the fatal steps that would lead me to my own deep and tragic loss.
I came upon Lynn once again petting the pears fondly, as I had left her two hours before, and with a glowing countenance she declared that she had been planning to bring the small display cabinet back out to the front counter, and these pears are going to look wonderful on top of the display case! My God! What have I done???
What could I say, Dear Blog? I'm a youngest child. I never had anything of my own that wasn't someone else's first. When I wasn't just a way station for toys and clothes that were taking a small rest on their journey to the person after me. I've never given a thing up with grace, even now in my late 40s. But I couldn't just wrest them out of her hands, could I? I couldn't say, No! Those are MY pears! Give them back! Then push her down and take them away, sobbing all the while. Could I?
So I guess I am just going to have to knit and felt more pears, even as I plot the eventual liberation of the felted pears I have lost. At least I have photos to remember their dear selves by.
SOB! I must end this missive now, I am too torn up to write any further...
posted by Lynda Michaluk Sorenson at 1:01 PM
3 Comments:
Lynda~ ~ ~Just look at the JOY you brought to her by "gifting" her with the pears. As a fellow knitter we never have enough projects going at once now you can add the pears to your list of things to knit :>) Cute story.
I am enjoying reading your blog. Be back soon.
Ahrisha
Oh, I can so clearly picture this entire scene. Such joy. Such a bummer. Are you sure it's not just a temporary loan of your lovely pear pair? Perhaps in a few weeks it won't be Pear Season any longer, Lynn will put up a different display (pinecones? Snow people??) and you'll get them back? Though perhaps at that point it won't be quite the same, having been "used" by others before you could really enjoy them for any length of time.
For what it's worth, being the oldest doesn't mean you get your own stuff either. While it may have "technically" been just mine for the first few minutes to seconds, I always had to share with my little sister. In reality, this translated into her getting to play with whatever it was constantly while I was told to share and let her play with my things. Unless the item was a book (which didn't interest her), it was inevitably lost, torn or broken, at which point my sister was given a replacement. This may well explain why I am just a wee bit territorial about *everything* and behave like a dragon guarding its gold about my belongings. :o)
Cheers,
Morenna
I can just see it. And hey, on the blogger thing--I spent two days trying to upload pictures, and finally had to call in the resident geek. The new version of blogger and our server were not playing well together at all.
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