A Letter

Dear Elizabeth,

We need to talk. I know, those are the four words no woman ever wants to hear, but I feel they must be said. You see, you cast me one well over a year and a half a go an I'm still waiting to be cast off. I remember when we first met. It was a lovely spring day when you sat down in front of your computer and started going through the photos. You wanted to find "the one". That special fiber that you would spend a pretty decent chunk of your life with. And then, after about an hour of waiting, you found me.

I was there on your screen almost pleading that you give me a chance. So many others just looked at me once and went the other way in search of something better. But you were different. One look at is was love at first sight. Sure, I'm a cheap superwash and the yardage isn't so great, but you saw what was inside; you saw the sweater that would be knit for your sister.

After you placed the order and put a small hole in the checking account (did you ever tell Alex about that?) you gathered the remaining supplies you would need for our relationship- needles, stitch markers, pattern. You also cast on another project while you awaited my arrival at your door. I didn't know this of course until after we met face to face, but you told me "it's just a sock, it will be over soon" and I was foolish enough to believe you.

We had a good run for a while. Your showed me the sights around your town, we went shopping together, you introduced me to your coworkers, you took me to church. But all the while, you were casting on other projects and claiming they "weren't as fun" as I was. It hurt.

Remember the week you spent trying to figure out the hood? Finally, you got it (and as a thank you for your mother helping you with the stitch counts, you cast on another project). I was proud of you, and a little saddened. Did those hours of hard work mean nothing?

Then you decided that your sister would prefer a pull-over style and continued our relationship until about the length reached right about the middle of her torso. I've been waiting patiently. I know you just had a baby and your husband requires a hot meal every now and then but for crying out loud Liz! Could you at least knit my sleeves in? I'm right there by the door, waiting for you to pick me up when you go out again. Just give me a chance, I promise the end result will be worth it.

Ever Yours,

Naomi's Sweater

P.S.- if I hear that you cast on another project before you finish me, I will show the moths where you keep the angora....