At any rate, I was having a lot of fun with it and wanted to write more and crazier things but maybe later after I finish my latest WIP. It's fun letting first drafts fly.
Happy Holidays and I wish you health and happiness in the new year.
Words: Knit, feminist, hostility, mobile
Grandma, Aunt Lou, Mom and Sister Mary sat in the living room knitting hats for homeless people. That was the cause of the month, which was better than last month’s, Llama’s with long necks. Four llamas got their own coat-matching scarves. (Insert eye roll here). I like it when they knit things for babies or kids in the hospital. The tiny clothes are just adorable. And super colorful. You have no idea.
I sat behind them at the dining room table doing my homework, or at least pretending to, and listening to them.
Grandma and Sister Mary were sisters and Aunt Lou and Mom were sisters. And isn’t that enough estrogen to float a dirigible. Believe me, it is.
Sister Mary was a feminist first and a nun second. Don’t tell Mother Superior. Grandma couldn’t have cared less about that. She never learned to drive. Even after Grandpa died.
This is how their conversation would go.
Grandma – Oh knock it off Mary.
Sister Mary – What? I’m just saying.
G – You’re always just saying.
SM – Better than what you say.
G – What, that it’s okay for a woman to cook and clean and volunteer.
SM – No, that a woman ONLY should do those things. Women do everything and should.
G – You dance on my last nerve Mare.
SM – You are my last nerve Grace.
The conversation between Mom and Aunt Lou is different but oddly similar, with more hostility I’d say.
Mom – Pass that needle Lou.
Aunt Lou – Would it kill you to say please?
M – Pleeeeze Lou? (Insert eye roll here too).
AL – Don’t think I didn’t see that. Do you have a piano tied to your ass? You got two good legs and arms, get it yourself.
M – Haven’t you finished menopause Lou?
AL – Pot meet kettle.
See what I mean?
When I was a baby, these four ladies or women, knit little animals and made a blue, pink, yellow and green mobile for me. I’ve had it hanging in my room for as long as I can remember.
And you know what? It symbolizes the best of these women who sang Christmas carols while preparing for my arrival. Sweaters, mitts, booties and hats. They even tried to knit a diaper cover. Not a big seller. But they loved doing it together and they loved each other. Hard to see that anymore.
So as much as I love these women and all their quirks and faults, warts and farts, hearts and souls, foul language (yes, you, Sister Mary and Grandma) and fair weather, the knit baby mobile is the only thing I’m taking with me when I go live with my dad.
Ssssh. They don’t know yet.