“I was taught as a kid,” he answered, reading the question in my eyes. “Back home, we had sheep, so we made and dyed our own yarn. It’s hard to find yarn like that now. I was an only child, but…” he shrugged. “I spent days working with my father, and at night my mother taught me to read and knit.”
I watched hands that could barely hold a cup string loops into intricate patterns, soon to be lap blankets for other patients.
“I guess she knew one day I’d need to feel more than warm; I’d need to feel useful.”
This paints such a vivid image in my mind and makes an important point. Everyone wants to feel useful, even the very old–maybe especially the very old.
Very nice. I can picture the tender scene so vividly. Great job!
Excellent. Great empathy for the main character. A sort of twist that really works, too.
Touching; I know people like this, thinking of others.