The pain of knitting

“Here you are, sweetie.”

I unwrapped the parcel knowing well its content — another cap.

“Thank you so much, mother, you really shouldn’t knit you know.”

I looked at her arthretic hands knowing well the pains of knitting. But I couldn’t pain her even more, reminding of all the caps she’d already given me.

“Sweetie I can tell how you are freezing.”

I smiled while running my hand over my bald head.

“You’re right mother.”

I hugged her hiding my tears. I couldn’t pain her by telling the reason for my haircut. Would she continue knitting caps for my funeral?

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Copyright Björn Rudberg

I have always found it harder to write about my own picture, after all I remember the place and why I took it, but I did find a story in the picture telling you a story of aging mothers, and how they can become obsessed with making things for you.

Friday Fictioneers is run by Rochelle, giving a picture each week asking us to write 100 words of fiction on the same picture. Join the fun.

On Monday I received my copies of Chiaroscuro – the poetry anthology we have published from contributions at dVerse. It contains poems by more than hundred poets (some of them also writing on FF). It’s available at Amazon US and UK. We have priced as low as we could to spread the words of all these talented poets we have in the blogosphere.

76 responses to “The pain of knitting

  1. As a bald man I can appreciate the gesture, fortunately it’s nothing more serious than that for me. Touching story. Congratulations on the poetry collection.

  2. My mother like to crochet. My wife and sister-in-laws could always count on getting a doily at Christmas. We still have several and appreciate them now more than then.

    I’m glad your character spared his mother the pain. It’ll hit her soon enough.

  3. Oh my… so heartbreaking and beautifully done, Björn. Thanks for the great photo! I know what you mean about it being hard to write about one’s own photo!
    (May I suggest you change arthritis to arthritic hands?)

  4. Oh, it was already such a sad piece before he said he didn’t want to trouble her with the reason for his bald head. I think so many people get the same gifts from loved ones, and they don’t realize how truly valuable they are until they stop receiving them. Which was the very thing I was contemplating until the sad ending. Lovely piece though.

  5. When I lost all my hair a few years back, my youngest grandson asked if it would grow back ginger! So I enjoyed your story even with its sadness for recalling this memory.

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  7. What an awesome piece! I was hooked until that powerful last line. A mother and son who love each other very much. I hope he tells her eventually so they can go through it together.

  8. Such a sad tale. The mother’s love unmistakable, and the child’s reciprocation. All that knitting gives mother purpose, and probably keeps the fingers more nimble than they would be. I imagine she will stop knitting if her son succumbs.

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  10. A beautiful story. Mothers are like that. They will do whatever they can for their children. She may understand more than we think, however.

  11. This was so moving for me… and so close to reality. Twice, we’ve had these haircuts in my family. You packed it all in a few words.
    Here’s to health and happiness ….Merry Christmas!

  12. This is a heartwarming story, Bjorn of a kind of love that’s a gift. Good writing. Thanks for the lovely picture that made all our stories possible. All the best for your book. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2018. 🙂 — Suzanne

  13. Oh my, Bjorn. I was sad as I read, thinking of my own mother’s arthritic hands and her desire to give me things over and over, that might make my life better. Then, that last line! A sad, beautiful story to make me appreciate the fragility of life.

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