Ode to a Steeked Jacket*

(Thanks to the Yarn Harlot for the idea of a letter to a piece of knitting.)

Dear Steeked Jacket

The time has come for our relationship to take a new direction and this is the weekend that heralds the close of one chapter and the beginning of another.

For a long time (14 months, actually, but who's counting) you've lived on my lap, in one of many knitting bags, or at times, shoved ruthlessly in the darkest corner of the lounge room.


But very soon, you're going to have a new abode. You'll live in a wardrobe alongside all my other knitwear. You'll be stored and cared for and yes, you may feel superior next to the less sophisticated pieces, but you mustn't sneer at them. They are not less worthy than you just because they are made from inferior yarn or lack the complexity that makes up your form.

Those earlier pieces were made when I was a new knitter, or when I was less inclined to be adventurous, but they were made with as much love and enthusiasm as was poured into you at times. So just be nice. Be friendly. It shouldn't be hard for you. You've got a great heart and besides, if they didn't exist, neither would you.

But you won't ONLY live in my wardrobe. Soon, you'll have days out.

You'll choose a cute pair shoes, a well fitting pair of jeans and you'll head out into those chilly Canberra days. I can see you on those foggy mornings. You'll be drawn in close, buttoned up and matched with an equally alluring scarf. You'll have a coffee at the markets on a Saturday or a glass of red in a pub. You'll be all silver and blue charm against a dull, grey landscape.

And on those days when anyone with eyes to see can appreciate the beauty of a sunny, Canberra winter's day, you'll shine. You'll be worn with pride and you'll be an example of why being a
knitter in Canberra is such a good thing. We have the winters to warrant wearing projects that took more than a year to make. You'll never be worn with a sense of complacence. It won't be possible. Every time you are worn, the sheer weight of you will call to mind the months and months of work that went into you. All those stitches. All those floats. All the angst and frustration and wonder.

This weekend, dear Steeked Jacket, you will be finished. It's my solemn vow. You've waited too long to be seen and as the days grow shorter and the sun sinks lower, the time is coming for you to finally be what you were always meant to be.

So please, be patient. We're almost there.

Bells


*Title changed from Dear Steeked Jacket at the suggestion of Tinkingbell!