When I opened the mailbox today, there it was, a little duck, wearing a tiny blue knit hat, sitting on top of the bills like it had something to say. At first, I laughed. It looked so out of place, like a kid forgot their toy. But then I noticed the detail. That little hat? Hand-knit. Not store-bought. Someone made that. I already knew who. My mail carrier, Robert, is quiet, older man, walks a little slower than he used to. Never misses a day. And after my husband passed last year, he was the only person I saw some weeks. Just a wave through the window or a polite “stay warm” through the screen. But one day, after a particularly heavy delivery (hospital bills, sympathy cards), I opened the door and just broke. I told him everything. I don’t even know why. I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. He listened. Didn’t try to fix it. Just nodded and said, “My wife passed a few years ago too. I still crochet her things.” Since then, we’d share a few words here and there. He told me how crocheting helped him with the silence. And I told him I used to knit, too, a long time ago, but couldn’t bring myself to pick it up again. He said, “When you’re ready, you will. It’ll call you back.”
Well… this little duck? I think that was the call. I brought it inside and stared at it for a long time. The hat was simple. A soft blue with a tiny pompom. It reminded me of the first baby hat I ever made. I hadn’t thought about that in years. That night I opened up my old yarn bin. It still smelled like cedar and old hope. And for the first time in forever, I logged back into the Tedooo app, the place I used to run my little knit shop before everything fell apart. My hands were stiff, but muscle memory kicked in. I started slow. Just a little ribbed edge. Then a loop. Then another.
It’s not much. But it’s a start.
I don’t know if Robert meant it as a gift, or just a quiet reminder that healing can come in the smallest stitches. But it worked.
I decided reopen my Tedooo app store. For the woman I used to be and maybe still am. So yeah. Maybe it’s just a duck in a hat.
Or maybe it’s proof that kindness doesn’t need to knock.
Sometimes it just sits quietly in your mailbox, waiting for you to open the door.
Credit: Tanya Frumina