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.