In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Weaving the Threads.”
The elderly woman sat in a chair knitting the blanket. Her hands moving with an even speed while she slid the needles around one another. The pattern becoming more apparent with each row. Bright colors of yellow woven with blue, creating a star shape connected to the next. Her mind recalling a time when her grandmother would sit on the couch next to her as a child showing her how to create something that could last generations. But more than creating with their hands, they were also creating a set of memories that would carry forward until this very moment. Melancholy crossing her expression as she wished she had a granddaughter of her own to teach.
The sounds of the machines rhythmically pumping life in to the child. Parents sitting around the incubator waiting for the doctor to come in and tell them they could finally hold their child. Feel this new life in their own hands, allowing their warmth to surround this new addition to their small family. Each taking a turn sitting next to their daughter, people ducking in asking if there is anything they can bring them. Having not left the hospital for even a shower, these scared parents don’t know how to react when this kind faced woman dressed in jeans and a sweater steps in and asks to speak with them.
“I’m with a group called Project Linus and our sole purpose is to provide blankets and hats for newborns. Something that helps make the environment a little more comfortable for everyone.”
Not knowing how to react, this wasn’t something they had expected. Most people coming in just wanted to draw blood or read some computer screen. What do you say to someone who only wishes to give you something and unfortunately move onto the next set of parents down the hall?
“Thank you, that sounds nice.” The words meek and confused, but grateful.
Out of a box comes a selection of blankets, each slightly different from the next. All obviously made by some individual hand. The purple one being a favorite of the still speechless mother, carefully placed on the side table. Ready for the nurse to place inside the plastic rectangle, no one wanting to disturb the wires and tubes.
Mom jumps up from her chair, hugging the woman and then sitting back down. Tears gathered in the corners, trickling from her hazel eyes.
In was a typical Saturday morning as they were walking around the Farmer’s Market. The promise of some donuts and possibly something special filling the minds of the children as they run around the parking lot. This is more about the parents wondering how they could finally learn the make the wonderful Cheddar Bread that they’ve been paying $9.00 a loaf for. Knowing they could make it for half that in their own kitchen.
At the end of the row was a simple table of homemade arts and crafts projects. So dissimilar from the other vendors pushing jams and jellies, pies and breads. Hand-carved toys, a single block of wooden shaped like a car or possibly a boat. A variety of animals on display, covering the table. $5 each, or 3 for $12. The memory of a time before electronics had taken over the joys of a child’s imagination while they lay on the floor pretending to be anything taking the couple back to their own nostalgia.
At the very end their niece walks up and says, “Can I show you something?” Tugging on their arms, pulling them towards the table placed separate from everyone else.
“Could I have this?” Curiosity getting the better of them, rather than just saying “No”, they walk over and eye what this new prize might be.
A simple blanket, no more than 4 feet across and possibly the same dimension down. Each piece of yarn interwoven with such care you could barely tell where one turn began and the next ended. The time someone had placed into the craftsmanship immeasurable. It reminded the couple of the cloak from Joseph and The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. So many vibrant strands pulling the sunlight off of them. It was only $10.
A smile came across their faces, how could you pass up on something that could last years? Something so simple in the way it was requested, denying it would be tough. The wallet came out and a $20 passed across the table. The change waved off because they knew someone wasn’t going to make a dime. The woman sitting in her folding chair just smiles briefly, a gentle nod a offer of thanks. The young girl insisting on carrying her new prize to the car, showing it off to everyone they pass. Her joy infectious, not a soul unable to crack a grin as she slide into the drivers seat before hopping into her booster. Off for another adventure…