in a drawer.

in a bag.

some yarn.

a notebook.

on one page:

“chunky baby sweater”

on another:

“cable knit baby hat”

in her handwriting.

those words

followed by

a bunch of

numbers that must

have meant

something to her.

eyes scanning the

pages, finding different numbers

at the top

of one page:

11/7/07.

at the top

of another page:

12/(something)/07.

a bunch of

numbers that mean

something to me.

dates.

projects started

(never finished)

for our daughter.

i held the notebook.

i turned the pages.

nothing after

those two dates.

blank.

empty.

i pulled out the yarn.

knitting needles

right where she

left them,

mid-project.

but which one?

sweater?

hat?

and where is

the other?

i wish she would

have taken me seriously

that one time

when i asked her

to teach me

to knit

(i probably should’ve asked with a straight face).

maybe i’ll learn

you know,

to fill up those pages

for both of them.