Erica’s Birthday
Hello, Universal Knitting Contingent Committee Members, Spinning Wheel Calvary and Cross-Stitchery Salutatorians,
This is Bryan, Erica’s husband, writing a guest post on the fabled Leetle Knits blog. I’m sitting here listening to the Fiery Furnaces while Erica is out in the living room knitting mittens for blessed hands, trying to come up with words from the established vocabulary for otherwordly things like ‘love’ ‘perfect music embodied’ ‘warming sun’ ‘breathable air in a suffocating world’ ‘a woman unlike all the others’ and I just keep going round and round in triangular, quadrilateral circles thinking I can bump into the right word for my wife.
Yesterday was her birthday, and that matters because until she was born–December 7, 1973–I was little more than fleshy blob on cruise control, crawling around lost, looking under blankies, under pillows, peeking into scary closets, babbling to anyone who’d listen about who and what I was looking for. They thought it was cute. They thought I was dabbling in baby talk. But for a year and a half I was on the Earth without my dearest–the entire earth, i.e. no matter where I could possibly have looked, I wouldn’t have found her. It was torture. I didn’t think I would make it. I came pretty close to beating Elvis to the great Vegas Revue in the sky. But then somehow I got word. Somehow the news got to me. I wasn’t yet two, but when I was informed about what had happened a few hundred miles away in Hutchinson, Kansas, I relaxed a bit. My future now seemed tackle-able. It didn’t matter what happened because from then on I wasn’t alone on this planet. The one I had been waiting for finally arrived.
So, sing with me unto the canyons, ye good knitters. The word is the good, the good is the word, the word is the good, the good is the world. Erica’s still around.
