Nicola Hancock

Love Letters

She is dressed today, especially for the occasion, in her traditional 2piece going away outfit.

The top, a trusty cardi, fastens to the neck with 9 gleaming-red two-holed hard-to-leave-alone buttons, that long for closeness over the garter-stitch bands. And despite the discipline of her stocking stitches and the symmetry of her raglans, that sadness still leaks from her hand-knitted coarse crimson wool. The sleeves safely-gather-in to single-rib cuffs, that skilfully lend the illusion of substance to her wrists, yet none-the-less dispense her hankie at the drop of a hat.

With a matching 2 1/4" single-rib welt, the cardi sits neatly at her waistline, while swinging below it to knee length,is the grey marching wall of her narrow-concertina-pleat skirt. To complete her look, the rattling buckles of the annual red closed-in sandals, reckon up her loss with each distancing step.

And I am left facing a severe parting in a head of blonde hair, yanked into two thick plaits, tamed by twice-wrapped bow-tied 3/4yd brown nylon ribbons, that never-the-less sprout forth brush-like tufts.

She has always been good with her hands. I watched her make herself that cardi the moment Granny taught her to knit. It was her way of making sure she had something warm in times such as this.

Anyway.........to cut a long story short, these letters, which are written and read in paint, are to you.

To tell you her daily news was so important, that she made space for it in the warmth of her airing cupboard. Day by day she put her discipline and devotion into practice. She layered leaf after leaf spread with untold riches, tenderly smoothing out the cockles over the narrow wooden slats, and pressed them down into a short enough time to bear.

Eventually the airing cupboard was filled with the most lovingly made millefeuille. But of course, you were not there to taste it. Never-the-less, these letters do come from her heart. So I am giving them to you, because I do believe in a heaven where they will be welcome.