Over the years Granny Suzanne had skein after half-used skein of left-over wool. In her younger days she had been a prolific knitter. These days, with rheumatism and fading eyesight, her knitting output wasn’t quite so productive.
Winter was setting in. She knew that her three grandchildren living with their mother “just down the road” would be feeling the cold. She couldn’t afford to pay for their heating, but she could knit, albeit with effort. She would knit warm clothes for her grandchildren and their mother.
Scarves, gloves, socks, and woollen hats were the order of the day! A bit of red, a flash of blue, a stitch or two of green… The job was done, and most of her leftover wool was used.
The grandchildren didn’t tell granny but they hated the items. “It looks like we’re street urchins,” they said to their mother. They threw the woollen items away and went to thank their grandmother. But when they visited their grandmother she was sitting in her armchair, dead.
She had died of the cold.
Oh, man! Guilted!
LikeLiked by 2 people
LOL!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Or, maybe not, little ingrates.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank goodness none of these characters exist in the real.
LikeLike
I would hope so!
LikeLiked by 1 person
!!
LikeLike
Not in my family! Well, maybe …
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha ha!
LikeLike
The fate of the knitter and the knitted was all too well known and yet you managed to make it amply saddening. Incidentally, I too used to hate the knitted apparels foisted upon me by my elders sisters, but it was mostly due to the utter disregard they showed to my opinions regarding the colours and patterns of the stuff under work. After all, I was the end user and not a guinea pig. On one occasion when a particularly horrendous looking pullover was shoved down my neck and the bunch of them stood back to admire their artwork, I few into a rage and took off the damned thing off my torso and began tearing at it with all my might, my loyal dog jumped into the melee and within minutes all that could be seen on the floor was tangled mess of wool.
Of course, they burst into tears.
LikeLiked by 2 people
OMG – there’s a story and a half! You should’ve simply pulled the wool over your sisters’ eyes!. My mother did a lot of knitting and I got all sorts of jerseys (pullovers) but they were usually pretty nice.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lucky you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m wearing the world’s ugliest sweater in my kindergarten class picture. My granny sent it for my older brother. He wisely refused to wear it, so I got stuck with it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your grandmother knew something – look how fashionable you turned out!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh Bruce this is such a tragic tale! I once had a jumper my mother knitted that was made up of rainbow stripes, I loved that jumper…The story also reminds me of Dolly Parton’s ‘Coat of Many Colours’.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’d love to have a patchy jumper these days! And apparently Dolly’s book was the millionth book to go into the Library of Congress – according to my TV!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, man this is so sad. I am an inveterate knitter – recently handed my daughter a pile of baby clothes I had knitted for the child they don’t have – hint, hint.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hope some were pink and some were blue!
LikeLike
THey were all yellow!
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂 Nothing like leaving your options open!
LikeLike