Writer’s Block
Blanketing her children with love is this mom’s final gift
She reached for the Christmas wrapping paper. The rolls were still wrapped in plastic. Sadie’s hand was a little stiff as her scissors cut through the clear plastic releasing bright, sky-blue paper spotted with snowmen dancing in all directions. Even though the calendar indicated it was only April, wrapping the four afghans for Christmas was of the utmost importance to Sadie.
The crocheted afghans brought a tremendous amount of pride to her tired old eyes with limited vision. Each afghan took many hours of patient stitching; after all, until a few months ago, Sadie hadn’t known how to crochet.
Her neighbour, Ginny, showed her how and bought the yarn as Sadie rarely left her small ground floor apartment. Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings didn’t count as outings because Sadie simply shuffled out her apartment door into a waiting car in which a local volunteer driver would take her to dialysis. The five-hour session hooked up to the life-prolonging machine was crocheting
time. Activities were limited while connected to a machine that takes blood out, cleans it and puts it back into the body.
Her crooked hands picked up the first afghan. The gift was masculine in dark greens and browns, perfect for John, the eldest of Sadie’s brood. He was the scholar, the politician, but still managed to stay grounded. John was his father all over again with the broad smile and short, thick black hair. As her first-born, John had been given a lot of responsibility, which he handled with maturity and integrity. To John, Love Mom.
The next afghan was in soft pastels, definitely for Sandy, the second eldest. Most like Sadie, Sandy was warm and nurturing with a family of her own. She had a slight build, dark complexion and ready smile. She would keep the family together through holiday meals in her inviting home. To Sandy, Love Mom.
The third gift was a combination of earthy blues and greens, perfect for Allan, the third of Sadie’s four children. Allan was the outdoorsman and most comfortable near or on a lake, fishing. He was the sensitive one with a kind heart. With a shaky hand she wrote on the small Christmas gift tag, To Allan, Love Mom.
The fourth and final afghan was perhaps the brightest mixture of yarns— strong reds, purples and yellows. No pastels for Beth, only the most solid of colours for her. She was the youngest and the most adventurous of the four. Sadie held the afghan to her cheek, feeling the softness of the yarn against her papery skin for a moment before wrapping the gift in the colourful paper. To Beth, Love Mom.
After wrapping each afghan in the brightly coloured wrapping paper, Sadie gently placed the gifts in a box and pressed a “Do not open until December 25th” sticker across the top. She knew that she would not be present when the gifts were opened but that the colourful afghans would keep her children warm.