Dedication.

I don’t know why I did it. Part of it was for you, most of it was for me. The feel of the yarn sliding through my fingers; the soft click clack of the needles. The sound of knitting has always been therapeutic, and I could feel its magic easing my stress. I had never worked on something for fun before, so I poured my heart into this project. Putting on the finishing touches, I knew what had happened. I could see everything so clearly. I had shrouded my mind with excuses. Leniency. Stupidity. As I sewed on his last leg, I knew you would never see him. He was mine. He was not yours to have, though my thoughts were on you the entire time. So why was he in existence now? If not for you, what purpose did he serve? I was lost, confused. I kept him by my side, and only now do I realize his significance.

I had done something similar earlier in my life as a knitter. It took me years to finally have what I needed to start this craft. It took me another year to finish it. By then you were out of my life, but a speck of little-fired neurons sitting in my mind, my memory of you slowly becoming a blur, gradually softening the line between reality and vivid dream. But I made it for you. I kept it safe for you. And now, only now, at this very moment,  do I grasp the scope of your influence. I had never intended to make him for that other person. It has been, and probably always will be, for you.

Author’s note: Okay, I admit, some of this IS made up because I really couldn’t think of anything else to write. It’s also probably very confusing, but eh, it makes sense to me, and that’s all that matters. I think story time will slowly start becoming more and more fictional as I run out of things to write about. Oh, and I just remembered one of my old favorite words: evanescent.