I had expected time to trickle slowly by so arrived armed with a crochet hook and a ball of yarn. I took a seat and when I had exhausted the reading material on the walls and my inner conversation ground to a halt, I plucked my yarn and hook out of my bag and began to crochet. There was a steady hum of activity all around as the door opened and closed and people came and went, came and went and I crocheted on. An elderly woman entered the room and sat beside me. She watched my fingers moving and my hook flashing. She reached out and squeezed the ball of yarn. I held up my project and said, “it’s a granny square. “. And then added, “and I’M a granny!” I don’t know if she understood my words but her eyes seemed to suddenly sparkle with something….courage perhaps, because she reached over and took the crocheting from my hands, yarn, hook and all and began to feverishly crochet. It seemed as though the waiting room inhaled in unison. “One, one?” She asked. “Yes,” I said nodding and holding up one finger. “One stitch between, two here. Two at the corner.”
“Good, good?”she asked holding the crocheting up for my approval. “Oh yes, very good,” I agreed.
She handed back the granny square and I showed her pictures on my phone of a baby quilt I had recently finished. And some crocheted purses. And my husband carving. She pointed to her foot and cradled an imaginary baby. Baby booties! “No,” I admitted. No baby booties yet.
Aren’t kindred spirits a wonder?
