Last Spring, I was traveling home from Portland, and noticed a woman knitting a gorgeous looking winter cap on the flight. It looked just like my beloved cap that I lost last winter in a cab. I was bummed out for several days about losing that cap--not just because it was blue and green (the perfect colors), but a family friend knit it for me shortly before she died of cancer.
It became clear to me that I had to have the hat the woman on the plane was knitting.
"Hi," I blurted as we got off the plane. "Can I buy that hat from you?"
She laughed and said she didn't sell her knitting. I explained how much the hat reminded me of one I had lost that meant a lot to me. Was there any way she could make an exception?
Well, in that case, she said, the hat was mine. She'd send it when she was done. What was my address?
How happy was I? Ecstatic, but felt like I had to give her something. So I signed a copy of my book and gave it to her along with my mailing address.
I hadn't thought about that encounter since--until I got a package in the mail last week. My hat! With a lovely note from Sara (I didn't even know her name), and a beatiful bracelet she made too.
She still isn't selling her wonderful work. Don't you think she should?