To GG, shortly after her death

Sometimes it amazes me
how quickly time moves,
like a commuter train
screaming past a little house
where a smalltown boy spellbound watches
needles click and kindly fingers knit,
turning yarn into a treasure
that will always be with him
as his train accelerates,
while another slows down,
and his own boys
who never knew the North Shore,
or Pine,
or Harrison,
or Frank,
watch those same needles and fingers
quietly knit wool into riches,
the right colors,
the perfect size,
praising with the cast-on,
praying with each stitch,
the pattern always before,
until the train finally stops
with one pearl left unfinished,
and this smalltown boy realizes
that more than the yarn,
more than the warmth,
more than even the memories,
he cherishes the lessons
the most.

“GG” was the name of endearment of my Grandmother Anthony, my mother’s mother.

One thought on “To GG, shortly after her death”

  1. This is so lovely and for such a lovely person. The knitting stitches are so appropriate since she knitted.

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