Dropped Stitches

“It’s like knitting a scarf,” the woman said, plopping herself down with another G&T.

She appeared to be talking to me, so I glanced her way.

“Life, I mean. It’s like knitting a scarf. You choose the colours, and make it as long or short as you want. You can make an intricate pattern, or keep it simple. It can be dull or exciting.” As she looked up, I noticed a tidemark on her neck.

“I suppose so,” I said uncertainly, taking in her unkempt appearance.

“D’you want to see mine?” she asked, opening a large carrier bag and pulling out something woolly. She proudly held it up. The lower end of it trailed on the floor, soaking up a pool of questionable liquid.

The scarf’s erratic hues screamed painfully at each other. Shamelessly dropped stitches and ladders gaped.

The Daily Post’s word prompt for today is Knit. Yesterday I wrote a poem about knitting, so today I had to come up with something different…

©Jane Paterson Basil

8 thoughts on “Dropped Stitches

  1. This reminds me of a delightful old lady I used to visit in her residence when I was working. She was always knitting a blanket – never did see one finished. Kept her mind and hands busy, she said. Stopped her from going mad, she said, seated proudly amongst a group of others who sat staring blankly into nothingness. She had an active mind, making conversation with her a delight. I guess she was right,

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Haha. My mum gave up knitting when our Siamese cat ate the matinee jacket she was making for my baby niece! She also ate an incredible hat that my brother had knitted for me, and scored deep cuts down my mum’s arms with her needle sharp claws. I love most cats, but I didn’t like that one.


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