Starting Over… again
When I was young, my grandmother came to live with us. My grandfather had passed away and she had suffered a stroke less than 6 months later.
She had given up and there was nothing we could really do about it– My mom started to crochet an afghan. It was a blue hound’s tooth pattern, and Gramma took an interest in it. It was the first thing she was really interested in since she’d moved in.
Gramma took over and we figured she’d decided to stick around– and when she found out she’d been dropping a stitch every row – she ripped the afghan back down and started all over again.
It was then we knew she was planning on staying a while. I still have that afghan.
Today’s Prompt: Getting it right when it really matters.