The Tiny Red Sweater




This day has been a long time coming. I’m a wreck, not because I’m not sure, sure that she’ll say yes – I know she will.  I want to make it memorable so she’ll have one of those great stories to tell for years.  I’ve gotta get these nerves under control. And all I’m coming up with is the corny getting-down-on-one-knee bit.  Lame.


He’s been so antsy today. And what’s with walking all the way to the end of the pier anyway?

It’s windy and I’m freezing. Love it in the summer, it’s kind of “our place”.

Note to self: Should’ve worn gloves and scarf.

And you’d think he could hold my hand rather than shoving his into his pockets.  Men!

Old Woman

It was Christmas Eve the first time I met him. He was just a toddler, all bundled up in that baby blue snowsuit. She’d kept him away from the family, to punish Jack.  Well Jack didn’t care but it broke my heart.

My first grandchild, I was so thrilled to meet him.  He was turning two the next day, a Christmas baby.

We’d met at the park, down by Jackson Pier.

I’d wrapped up a little gift, a small red sweater that I’d fashioned into a Christmas ornament.  He was quite taken with it, cooing and giving me the biggest hugs.


Maisy looks like she’s freezing. And seems pissed off.  Great. This isn’t going well.

Maybe we should just walk back to the car.  Man, I’m blowing it.

I’ve got my hand on the ring box but now the timing just seems wrong.  I take my warm hand out of that pocket and grab hers, it’s like ice.


I love Jeremy, I do.  But honestly, there’s nothing romantic about freezing to death. At least he’s holding my hand.

“Babe, how ’bout we head back to Miller’s Pub and get a drink”, I say my teeth chattering.

Old Woman

This park was the place where I’d see Jeremy as a young boy.  Rachel all but cut off contact when Jack shirked his fatherly duties. She’d moved on, married a cop and lived nearby. I was a reminder of Jack and I guess it was hard to explain me without bringing up the father who’d abandoned him. Jeremy seemed happy enough but how I longed to know him, our visits were too short and very few. Then they stopped.


Okay, thank God we’re heading to Miller’s.  Jeremy seemed really relieved when I suggested it. What’s up with that?  This walk was his idea.

If I didn’t love him so much I’d punch him right now.

Old Woman

I walked down to the park at Jackson Pier today to see the Christmas decorations. It’s beautiful  this time of year, all fixed up for the holidays.

I’d brought along my project. Making another red sweater ornament. I’d sent one to Rachel every year, to give to my grandson, with a little heart and “love Nana” sewn inside.


We’re seriously frozen. Almost back to the car.

Geez, there’s an old lady out here.  Knitting.

She should be home. I don’t see a car.

I should make sure she’s alright.

That’s when I see it.  She’s knitting a tiny red sweater.  I know her. I feel tears welling up. I have a box full of little red sweater ornaments.


Almost to the car. Hallelujah!  Then Jeremy just stopped. When I l turn to look at him, he’s got tears streaming down his face.

Old Woman

I should start for home, it’s gotten cold.  The forecast said “sunny” when I’d walked here. Well that’s the weatherman for you.

As I gathered up my knitting, I see a darling young couple standing in front of me.  I do a second take, first because I could see the young man was crying but then because he was the spitting image of my son, Jack. I know him.


“Can I ask your name?

Old Woman

“Margaret Palmer” I replied, then tenatively “Are you Jeremy?”


“Jeremy, do you know her?”


“She’s my Grandmother. She made me a little red sweater ornament every year.  It’s you, isn’t it?”


“Yes Jeremy.”

Jeremy and Margaret embraced. Maisy was introduced.  They asked her to join them at Miller’s.  Delighted, Margaret agreed.  Snagging a table near the fireplace but with a view of the pier, hours of conversation flew by as the three became acquainted.

Suddenly Jeremy stood up.  “Jeremy, what is it?” Maisy and Margaret said in unison.  That’s when he pulled out the ring box, did the corny drop-down-on-one-knee bit and asked “Maisy, will you marry me?”  Yeah it was corny but there was a good story to go with it.

Maisy and Jeremy married the following Christmas, Margaret was in attendance.  The only living grandparent, she was given a seat of honor at the church and the family table.

And at the reception, just to the right of the dance floor, there sat a special  Christmas tree with twenty two small red sweater ornaments.

Writing 101: Day Nine: Point of View

Today’s Prompt: A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write this scene.

Today’s twist: write the scene from three different points of view: from the perspective of the man, then the woman, and finally the old woman.

This is my first attempt at fiction – spencesgirl.

8 thoughts on “The Tiny Red Sweater

  1. I thought you had a decent first attempt at this. Keep it up! Mine was also a maiden attempt at fiction, and it was difficult to keep it unique. By the way, the image of the red sweater you shared bears so much resemblance to the one I pictured in my mind! Especially that snow frost/snow flake/whatever you call it. The snow flake was even part of my story!


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