I've been feeling a little down lately. That is nothing new. Some of it is the place of life, the place of grief that I am in and some is just the stress from searching for work. These are all to be expected.
As I was driving home today, I caught the end of Ben Heppner's Opera Gems on CBC Radio 2. (Not a big opera fan, but probably because I am not familiar with the genre but I digress) It just happened to be what was playing on the radio. I caught the tail of something pretty and then heard what I have always felt is the loveliest of songs.
Perhaps love is like a resting place
A shelter from the storm
It exists to give you comfort
It is there to keep you warm
And in those times of trouble
When you are most alone
The memory of love will bring you home
I felt better. It cannot be that bad because I have the memories and they will carry me, if I let them. When I got home, I sat down to knit.
I am having such a good time with the black and mixed colours socks. I am really, really enjoying knitting that way, putting colours in here and there, punching up what is already a very nice colour mix.
It made me wonder what magic could be had in my big bag of bits.
One great big bag. Did I mention how big it is? It is so big that it doesn't want to fit anything and I don't want to give it the dignity of its own private stash box just yet. I pulled out the bag and the boxes and decided to see what treasures I could find among them.
It is a really big bag. I pulled out a few and laid them out along with a few skeins of yarn that work with them.
It is lovely and I am having just the best time.
As I knit, I started thinking about how much I needed to hear that song and how glad I was that it just popped up when I so needed it. It struck me that these socks are the perfect knitting for this time in my world.
They are made of bits and pieces of sock knitting from long ago socks. There isn't enough there to make a pair from any one of them, but mixed together they make a pair and a darn good looking pair too. Good looking yet serviceable, plain stockinette socks. Eminently ordinary and more glorious because of it.
I suspect this part of life is going to be like that. Taking strands from the past, where there isn't enough of any one to make something, and weaving them into my future, making an eminently ordinary but I hope very good life.
Its funny the way things work together.