There is a tiny girl. Her story is not my story, but her parents. Her parents are my friends and like most children of my friends she got a hat when she entered this world. A hat with a poof as big as her head.
She got sick in her second fall and after days and weeks and months of horrible tests the worst imaginable diagnosis came back, but that is their story, not mine.
It’s winter now and my hands have longed to help my friends. We bought them meals, but I wanted to do something personal, so I cast on a hat. A bigger hat with a tiny pom pom. A hat with a brim, because it is cold this January and my friends are so cool. Their daughter needs a hat to keep her warm this winter. Her parents need a hat that tells them their friend still thinks about them and cares. I hope it isn’t too big, because the tiny girl may not have time to grow into things, and that is the tragedy. There is a tiny girl, and soon she will have a new hat knit with love and sorrow and friendship for her, her family, for all they have endured and all they have yet to endure.