Encouragement

My girlfriend went away last Saturday. She flew to Illinois to be with family for about a week.  Since we moved to Brooklyn together, I’ve left her alone for that long two different times.  But being by myself here for so many days is new for me.  It’s kind of like being on vacation - everything feels a little weirder (but also a little sweeter) and it’s hard to fall asleep.  On Sunday I went to brunch with my friend Richard, the only other person I saw all day.  He told me to make an encouraging banner.  I said I might.

On the bus home from brunch I felt quiet and lonely.  I was thinking about my girlfriend in Illinois and how long it would be before I saw her again.  I was thinking about what we might be doing if she were there on the bus with me.  She would be knitting and I would be reading, or looking out the window.  I would put my hand on her knee and she would smile and stop knitting and touch my hand.

Later that night I got out the big box of yarn that takes up most of the space under our couch.  When I was a kid, I liked to take all the books off the shelves in my room and stack them in piles. I liked the feeling of touching every book and knowing it was mine.  Sometimes my girlfriend does the same thing with this box of yarn.  She pulls it out from the under the couch and soon there are balls of yarn and knitted swatches all over the floor of our apartment. We both have to step over them to get anywhere or do anything. I’d be lying if I said I was always thrilled about this situation.  Sometimes I even step on them, on purpose.

I tried to choose something from the box that didn’t look too nice, but I don’t really know anything about yarn.  Finally I just picked something there wasn’t much of. I spent two hours listening to the radio and laying out the words.  I tied knots to show me where to put the pins:

There are a lot of potential post scripts to this particular encouraging banner.  For instance:

I love your knitting. P.S. Even when you make a mess.
I love your knitting. P.S. Even though sometimes I forget to tell you so.
I love your knitting. P.S. Sorry I stepped on your yarn on purpose.
I love your knitting. P.S. And sorry I pinned a bunch of it to the wall.
I love your knitting. P.S. Come back home and you can knit all you want.
I love your knitting. P.S. I mean it.
I love your knitting. P.S.