58,000 stitches of love

I saw Jun’s socks on the pickleball court. It was a beautiful pair of socks — hand-knit, multicolored, with a well-designed heel. As I was watching him change into his gym socks, he became aware of my gaze.

“My mom knitted these for me,” he said.

“Wow, they are beautiful,” I responded.

“It took 29,000 stitches per sock,” he told me.

“Well, That’s a lot of stitches …. I had no idea!” I was speechless.

“Yes. That’s my mom,” he said with pride.

“The color is amazing!” I added. I am imagining a mother named Mrs. Kim. She is a simple elderly woman, who finds joy in the quiet moments of life. Her passion is knitting, a skill she honed over many years. Each stitch was woven with love and care, a testament to her dedication to her craft.

Mrs. Kim’s eldest son, Jun, was her pride and joy. He had grown into a kind and compassionate man. He had come out as gay during his teenage years, and she had embraced his identity with open arms, offering unwavering support and love. Their bond was unbreakable, strengthened by mutual respect and understanding and compassion.

Jun had moved to the city years ago to pursue his career, but he always made time to visit his mother. During one of these visits, as the autumn chill began to set in, Mrs. Kim noticed Jun’s worn-out socks. A mother’s instinct to nurture and care kicked in, and she decided to knit him a new pair. She chose the softest, warmest yarn in vibrant rainbow colors that reminded her of Jun. She began to knit, each stitch a memory, a story, a silent message of love. As she knitted, she reminisced about Jun’s childhood, his first steps, his laughter filling their home, and his courageous journey of self-discovery.

The socks took shape, bright and cheerful, just like her son’s spirit. She imagined him wearing them, a piece of home to warm his feet and heart in the bustling city. As she knitted, she thought about the challenges he faced, the struggles he overcame, and the strength he showed in being true to himself. These socks were more than just a garment; they were a symbol of her acceptance, her pride in his identity and her endless love for him.

Finally, the socks were complete. Mrs. Kim carefully packaged them and sent them to Jun with a heartfelt note. Days later, she received a FaceTime call from him. His eyes lit up with joy as he held the socks, his voice warm with gratitude. He shared how these socks, so full of color and life, were not just a testament to her skill as a knitter but a reminder of her unconditional love and acceptance.

As winter came, Jun wore the socks every day. They were a conversation starter, a story of a mother’s love, a beacon of pride. His colleagues and friends admired them, and Jun proudly shared the story of his mother. Mrs. Kim wanted to make sure her love was with him, as comforting and constant as the colorful stitches of the socks she had lovingly made with 58,000 stitches.