Today I left work, hopped on the bus and headed down the hill to the ferry. On the way, I took out my knitting project to get some work done - I keep it in a Ziploc bag in my messenger bag so that I can leave the ball of yarn in the bag as I knit, so I just take the needles and the project out of my bag and pull from the ball of yarn in my bag. I hopped off the bus a few blocks from the ferry like I always do. I finished off a few stitches as I was walking down the hill, then continued to walk holding my needles on one hand as I walked.
I was almost to the bridge that crosses over to the ferry building, on First Avenue, when a boy in a car waiting at the light opened his window and said "excuse me", and a woman next to me stops and said "did you mean me?" The boy shook his head, no, he looked at me and pointed at me, yeah, you. I looked at him and nodded and raised my eyebrows; yes, what is it? Then he looked at me like he was embarrassed for me and like he felt so sorry for me... There was such
pity in his eyes and on his face. He raises his eyebrows and scrunches up his face and tentatively pointed behind me. I turned and looked, and there behind me were several yards (like twenty or thirty) of beautiful, chunky, raspberry colored yarn, and, at the end of it all...... was a very sweet man, picking up the yarn as fast as he could wind it.
I totally lost it. I mean how ridiculous, right? And, this man... how long had he been following me and picking up the yarn? Was he ever going to say anything ("Hey, crazy lady, stop!", "You, with the knitting, please stop, I can't wind that fast")? The woman next to me screeched "Is that your knitting!?" and I'm thanking the man who hands me a wadded up ball of beautiful, chunky, raspberry colored yarn that now has some street grime mixed in, and through my laughter, I say yes.
