Knit

I stared at her hands as I watched her knit – a sweater, I think she said. Thread was dancing over and around her fingers, and all I could think about was how I wanted them over and around my own.

“Yeah, and he was drunk when he asked for the age of his friend’s mom,” she said, never missing a stitch. “And his friend, being the good friend that he was, suddenly blurted out, ‘Careful, Ma, he’s flirting at you. He loves older women!'”

She laughed out loud, and her hands paused for a bit. I chuckled, not really knowing what we were laughing about, just engrossed in her voice and her knitting.

Her fingers started moving again. “The people you meet online, really.” She leaned back with a sigh, her fingers rhythmically weaving a pattern of their own. “They can be some of the weirdest people you’ll ever meet.”

I smiled. “Like you?”

She covered her mouth with a hand, threw her head back, and laughed again. I saw her grip the needles with her other hand, and felt it grasp on my heart.

She soon settled down, and she placed her knitting down on the table. “And you, silly. Well, I have to go pick up the kids. I’ll talk to you later, okay? We’ll practice Spanish next, I swear.”

I nodded. “Sí, señorita. Thanks for letting me practice my English. It was nice talking with you.”

With a big smile, she waved at me. “Yep, nice chatting with you. Talk to you later!”

And with that, her video camera turned off and the window closed. I was left staring at the empty screen, stitched into wanting a person a thousand miles away, caught in a tapestry of words and dancing threads.

–

For m.

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Image source: deviantart.com/saraschool/art/Knitting-91367555
First written March 12, 2018.
#158