String Theories

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With my winding steps, with each push of my bike pedals, with every cab ride I have taken, with every car I’ve gotten into, this city has knit me a story; it’s streets no less than needles, it’s alleys no less than looms. 

There are reinforced stitches around pubs and coffee houses, there are quiet and soft blankets around hills and parks where I’ve spent so many hours asleep or reading or holding hands. There are fresh threads, tender and vibrating to parts of our cities west and east and north to new friends, there are old, dusty and fraying strings to lost and forgotten loves that I only ever trip over and shake my head at. 

There are dropped stitches near those places I don’t go, by choice, by memory, by fear, by sadness, there is heightened tension in the stitches and the pattern where I work, where I stress. 

My city has knit my memories,  my story, into it. I wondered as I drove about this week how exactly I would leave such a city, a city that has made me and my memories so much a part of it’s knit and pearl, how the drop stitch and double crochet of this city could every be recreated anywhere else. 

Sitting across from a friend I love on Saturday morning,  she tied a veritable string to my finger. She handed me a blanket crafted of granny squares, made across this city, this province, and others; made over months, over moves, over triumphs and accidents and with love. And she told me with her hug that that string around my finger stretched very very far. And I could travel, and I could stray, and I could leave in 3 days; but this city and she would still be here, knitting, waiting; it’s streets no less than needles, it’s alleys no less than looms.

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6 Comments

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6 responses to “String Theories

  1. Ah, nothing like a good Sunday morning sniffle at my desk. What fabulous friends you’ve found in each other! I’m so glad to know both of you even a little.

  2. Wonderfully written… Did you make that? I love the soft colors.

  3. SO beautiful. I almost cried. You will be just fine in your new city. The woven landscape of your comforting old home wont flutter away from your mind. As your memories were slowly woven into the rolls of fabric that make up your old home, likewise, the unique strings that can only be found there tied and twisted their own delicate patterns into your heart and soul. I think that they are probably too tight to ever lose, and in that, you will be just fine.
    Your new home will only add more color, more pattern and shape to the already beautiful foundation that is embedded within you. I look forward to reading all about your future ahead, watching new shiny ribbons weave themselves in with the soft and comforting yarn of the past.

    ❤ Love you lady.

  4. You made me cry all over my keyboard. No lie. I love you, oh so very much.

  5. this is so beautiful 🙂 lovely writing and what a lovely city you have.

  6. oh my oh my. this is just so amazing. please write a book.

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