Dearest Darning Needle,
You were my solid gold, precious baby. Granted you were only made of some cheap metal and I bought you at the store for less than five dollars, but you were diamond encrusted platinum in my eyes.
I cared for you the best way I knew how. I kept you safe inside my pink notions bag, except that ONE time. I left you on top of my project when I went to make a cup of coffee. But when I returned, you were gone. Did you run away with the good pair of scissors? Or maybe with the special measuring tape I received in my swag bag at my first Vogue Knitting LIVE event in NYC?
But I suspect, dearest darning needle, one of the cats stole you. I imagine I’ll find you next spring when I work up the courage to move the couch and sweep underneath it. You’ll be in Wesley’s horde of pens, mechanical pencils, and cat nip toys. Until then, I’ll think of you fondly as I’m forced to use a tiny crochet hook.
Or, at least, until I go to the craft store to buy a new one.