After years, she held the knitting needle. This time, she was knitting for the baby, who was due to arrive in. She would be granny. She was ecstatic about it, gradually giving shape to her knitting skills in afternoons.
“Mamma, I lost my baby. I slipped and the baby is gone.” Her daughter informed her over phone.
All her dreams shattered, but still she continued her knitting.
“For whom you are knitting, we have lost our baby?” Her man said.
I will gift this to an orphan, in memory of my grandchild.
Written for One Frame Stories #92
© Ila Varma 18-07-2016