Haruni has defeated me tonight. With just one pattern row left, and two purl rows, my hands are screaming at me. It’s time to put it down and not to soldier on. Tomorrow is another day.
I was sitting here at my computer, knitting away with the pattern PDF up on screen and the iPlayer on my headphones. I’m listening “again” to Pick of the Pops. The year is 1970. I suddenly found a big fat tear rolling down my cheek.
You know when you are young and your heart is broken, older and wiser persons tell you it’s not the end of the world and that you will get over it. It’s true, to a large extent. Wounds heal. We move on. The heart has an amazing capacity to love and to beÂ broken over and over again and still love some more. If we are lucky the scars don’t even make themselves felt.
I guess sometimes they just twinge a little under certain circumstances. Perhaps when the wind is in a certain direction…
It was Peter Paul and Mary, Leaving on a Jet Plane that did it for me this time.
It was a long, long time ago. I was very young. His name was Stuart, and I adored him. I believed that we would be married one day. That we would be together forever. But he joined the RAF and flew away from me, because I let him go. You know: “if you love somebody, let them go – and if they love you they will return.”
I thought that my heart would never mend. My first true love. It was supposed to be my last.
I was very young 🙂
I’m old now. I’ve been around the block once or thrice. I’ve had two husbands too many (if you look at it in one light) perhaps.
But I’m kind of glad to find that tear still inside me and that I feel just a little blue right now. Perhaps a sign that somewhere inside me I am not so very old after all.
(Don’t worry Mr L, it’s nothing serious. Nostalgia.)