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.
The man –
As i walk through the park with my beautiful wife on the way to our anniversary lunch date we pass an elderly lady she is knitting a small red sweater. It strikes a blow into my heart, my palms sweat, i shake and burst into tears, these are tears of sadness for we only lost our baby boy not 6 months ago.
When i was very young my grandmother knitted me a jumper much the same, which had been handed down through generations of our family, there are many memories attached to it and of course my little lad would have been the next recipient of the jumper i had worn. The memories came flooding back some of joy, some of pain and some of nostalgia, it was one of the few things i had left from my gran and i so wanted to pass it on as it meant so much to me; unfortunately it was not meant to be.
I squeeze my wife’s hand tight for support and to compose myself, my thoughts fall to my wife…she is pregnant again we can only hope that the jumper will continue on throughout our family. We walk on to our lunch date, i don’t want to talk about what happened right now, i know my wife understands.
The woman –
Walking through the park with my husband on the way to our anniversary lunch; i think about our marriage and the past few years, it has not been easy we have been so much but it has only made us stronger. We walk past an elderly lady knitting a small red jumper, to my dismay my poor husband becomes agitated and cries, for a moment the significance is almost lost, then i remember, his jumper. I understand how important that jumper is to him. I catch myself to hold back the tears for i am horrified that my husband is so distressed but he needs my support, we both do, there are 3 of us to think about now. I hope when the baby comes he can pass on his jumper and the tradition will carry on. I feel him squeeze my hand tightly and i know what he’s thinking, i smile at him in the hope of comforting him, we walk onto our lunch, nothing was said about what he saw until that evening.
The old lady
What a beautiful day it is, perfect for sitting in the park and knitting for my little grandson, i hope he loves the jumper i have made for him. Looking up i see young love approaching, what a wonderful thing it is; oh dear that poor man is crying, i wonder why? As she watches the couple pass in silence the man in tears she wonders why someone so fortunate in their life would be so distressed by the sight of someone knitting in the park, as she looks up to say something they have already walked past, she concludes she will probably never know.
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