It had been five weeks since I started knitting my first pullover vest and I was so proud of the progress. The anticipation was serious. As a beginner, I was using two needles, about 14 inches each and white wool. With just a few hours in a day to knit, it took me longer than usual.
I cannot count the number of times I had to undo and re-knit it again. I kept on clumsily scratching my left index finger and accidentally splitting my threads. Plus, my fingers often got cramped from the stiff, chunky wool that beginners use. Saying that the struggle made me even more attached to the pullover, is an understatement. It is like I fed on the progress of my knitting.
Then one day, it got lost. My husband, our two kids and I had gone for a day out. We went to the park, where my husband played a game of mini-baseball with the two boys. I smiled at the knitting opportunity as I took out my needles and white wool. I was in a hurry to finish knitting the front side of the vest and sew it to the back. Once in a while, I stopped to wave at my three boys, before getting re-captivated by the patterns I was creating. All I could think about is how good I would feel, putting the sweater on my youngest son.
It was finally time to leave the park and head to the mall for some toy shopping. Everything went on smoothly until we got back home. At first, I thought that I had put the almost finished sweater and wool in another bag. I rampage through the grocery bags before checking in the fridge, trash bin and finally our car. "I don't understand why you are so upset when you can just knit another pullover," that was my husband speaking. I did not answer. After searching the house for almost two hours, I concluded that I must have left it at the mall or the park. So, I got into my husband's car (it picks up speed faster) and drove off to the rescue. I walked through the park, looking under seats and in trash bins and frantically asking people if they had seen misplaced white wool and blue needles. I even went back to the mall, but - nothing.
The heartbreak was deep. All I wanted to do was go back home, order pizza for everyone and cry myself to sleep. I was sure that losing something so close to my heart was the just bad omen and asked myself 'why.' When I got home, I found my boys clean and seated as my husband prepared dinner. What have you people done this time?
I was not sure what they had done, but I was sure it was to my wool. As I walked towards them, my husband came in from the kitchen, laughing. The oldest one shoved his younger brother and told him to give me my wool and the half-finished sweater. He stood up and retrieved my items from under the pillow. My husband thought it was really funny - I did not. It didn't end well.