Over the past week, there have been many laments--written, spoken...and I imagine somehow even gestured--about getting on with "normal" life. Everyone seems at least a little saddened to go back to their normal routines, with the excitement of Sock Summit behind us all, as nothing but a soon-to-be distant memory.
But is it?
I, along with so many others Summiteers, left the Summit having had a mountaintop experience. While it could be disappointing to come down to sea level, I decided to try to live through my first week back in real life in a happier state overall--to remember each day that I learned a lot and am richer for the experience, thus salving the sting of the loss.
This worked pretty well overall, but there was occasionally still a little longing calling from far away.
Then there was Friday. Friday wan't great just because it was Friday. There was something more on this day.
I am a hygienist in a really great practice here in Vancouver, Washington. We have great fun day to day and frankly, we have a lot of great patients, many of whom have become my friends. And many of whom have specifically become my "knitting friends."
The knitting thread (or yarn) has become so apparent in our office that we joke about it all the time. The dentist I work for teases that when knitting friends come in it's really hard for me to get their teeth cleaned because we are having such a great time in our comradery.
And it's true. We really have to watch ourselves, or the entire hour appointment sometimes can easily wane as we show and tell projects ( I have a knitting basket in my operatory) and share stories and ideas.
For this entire week, there have been no knitting friends on my schedule at work.
Then yesterday, a patient was placed on my schedule that I didn't immediately recognize. That is, not until she walked in and sat down. I looked down my chair at her feet and saw handmade knitted socks. I audibly gasped.
Some people recognize folks by their faces, and in my profession, we can recognize people by their smiles and teeth. I apparently now have crossed over into yet another arena--for the first time in my life I recognized someone by their knitting.
"My God! Are those knitted socks? With beads?!" My heart was racing. I knew who this was. I exclaimed her name in excitement and all the information I knew about her flooded to my mind. She was a Vancouver neighbor, she knitted all the time, was quite accomplished for her time knitting (not kidding--this girl can create art!), she meets with the Vancouver Mall Knitting group and knew of the same groups here in town that I know of.
And she was at Sock Summit.
Why did we not see each other? We should have talked about this before! When did our groups meets and what were our projects?
She had charts and a sock in progress in her bag with a cute pattern name: "I Love You, Mom" They were lovely heart shaped cables in grey and maroon wool. She said she intended to wear them with clogs. I oohed and ahhhed over them.
We talked on and on about patterns and knitting and the Sock Summit. It was like we were thrown right back to last weekend.
During that Friday afternoon hour, some sort of miracle happend--we cleaned her teeth, did all of our necessary things--paperwork and otherwise--and spent a fair amount of time in knitterly sisterhood. It was like time had slowed down.
Was this some sort of gift for us knitters who lamented the loss of the Summit in our small moment together? Did this happen for everyone somewhere in the world this week?
Whatever it was, it felt like magic. And I hope it happens for you.