As a child I loved getting new shoes. Twice a year we would travel to the city (Bradford) to get new shoes - brown lace ups for winter and pretty strappy sandals for the summer.
I would get home and open the box - peering inside and smelling the new leather I would imagine the adventures and journeys we would have together. The promise of shiny newness. I would carry them around the house and pop them down next to me. At bedtime I would place them on the floor where I could go to sleep looking at them.
Nothing much has changed - this morning the postie bought me a parcel:
I opened it slowly, savoring the moment:
I stared at its beauty and imagined what adventures we will have together - what tales will be knit into the shawl it is to become. I just realised I've been sat with my coffee and knitting and the box is on my lap where I can look at the beautiful yarn every now and then.