Grandma teaches the boys to knit and one by one they join the craft circle.
Grandma Tracy had taken great pains to teach each of her boys to knit. They humoured her for the most part, unsure of the necessity but happy to spend a few hours by her side. Virgil and John made a computerised knitting machine for her one year and she’d shaken her head at the sight.
“You boys are missing the point,” she’d said, poking the contraption. “You’ve got to feel the yarn, touch it, support it right so it doesn’t stretch and infuse it with some love.” At that, she pulled them down for a hug. “Thank you for thinking of me,” she’d whispered in their ear. “I love you both very much.”
“Thanks Grandma,” said Virgil, hugging her tightly. John had quirked a smile. “Love you too,” he said mildly.
It was to everyone’s surprise when Gordon took to knitting like a fish in water.
“It gives me something to do,” he’d said with a shrug. “Relaxes you after a long day, you know?”
His first attempts were wonky, full of holes from accidental yarn overs, a square that kept ending up with too many stitches, and it wasn’t unusual to see him bent over his yarn swearing at yet another dropped stitch. Grandma Tracy would carefully take the square, crochet hook in hand and carefully working it back up for him, a column of stockinette proudly laying flat against the garter stitch.
“It’s important to see the marks your mistakes make,” she’d told Gordon who had nodded solemnly, bent over his work once more.
“I don’t know how else to fix them,” she’d told Scott who had laughed.
Soon enough, Gordon had dozens of squares, dark and light blue stacked all around the house.
“I’m making a blanket,” he told Alan.
“Can I help?”
“Sure, why not?”
Alan ran to grab his own needles stuffed in a drawer in his room, and a bright russet red from his Grandma’s oddball stash. Gradually Gordon’s other brothers came around, intrigued by this impromptu party. A vibrant green for Virgil, a warm yellow for Scott. They’d called the space elevator down and left a sparkly black yarn and some needles inside without explanation. Before long, John’s hologram popped up beside them, looking confused.
“We’re making a blanket,” Virgil said. “Ask Gordon for details.”
They worked together, concentrating as a unit. All was silent except for the clinking of metal needles and John muttering over and over under his breath, “In, up, around and out.”
Gradually though, they began to share stories of their day. They’d laughed together when Virgil told them about the disco party he’d been invited to after his last rescue. They’d listened as Alan told them all about his latest schoolwork. They’d teased Scott incessantly when he’d gotten up to get some food for them all and he had promptly tripped over the yarn at his feet.
And so, they came back together the next moment they were all free. And the next.
Grandma Tracy and Gordon laid out all the squares and began to assemble them together.
“I think they got the point, Grandma,” said Gordon, smiling brightly at her.
“I think you might be right, Gordon.”
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