Letting Go

I finished the Fairisle Pullover. It's done -- the last of the 2001 projects. My oldest "knitting" ufo is now only what 2 years old, if that. What was it that held me back? The ends? Was it such a monumental task that I took several months to even start? Maybe. Was it the holidays? A good excuse. Last week I asked my daughter if she'd like to wear it this week. She said yes! So I started. One night, one side, the next the other. I could have finished it in time for her to wear it to school on Friday. But I didn't. I skipped working on it that night. Picked it up again the next to finish tucking in the ends of one sleeve then one more night to do the other. Why? Why couldn't I finish it by Friday? Because -- I was afraid. Afraid she'd wear it to school only to casually take it off and leave it on the playground (she's done this before). I was afraid of the days ahead where I would check the lost and found and wonder if it would ever come back (the last item did -- and yes it was handknit -- a poncho). It was safe in my knitting basket. Nothing would happen to it with it's ends free. With ends neatly tucked in the sweater was ready to be worn and not by me. It was ready to leave my care. Saturday she wore it to her ice skating lesson. I watched both her and the sweater. They seemed okay. No one got hurt. Then Monday came and my daughter emerged from her room wearing the sweater. "You're wearing that to school? Promise me you won't take it off -- no matter how hot you get (it's cotton!)". And with a kiss she promised. I didn't think about her or the sweater until they both came in through the front door, safe and sound. Here it is now, hastely thrown aside in her rush to get her ballet togs on -- I didn't pick it up though -- it's no longer mine.