Gemotions

The rhythmic click-clack of knitting needles was a counterpoint to the television's blare. Eleanor watched, a little fondness warming her, as her daughter, Chloe, fumbled with the yarn. Eleanor had always found knitting meditative, a source of solace. Now it was Chloe's solace too.

Chloe’s tiny needles clicked at a frantic pace, and, the result was a tangled mess. Eleanor calmly reached over to Chloe’s lap, carefully untangling the wool. She took a deep breath, the rhythm of her own needles steady. "It takes a while, honey. Don't worry, you’ll get it," she said, her voice soft.

Chloe sighed dramatically, but her face was already starting to brighten. Eleanor thought she would like to teach her everything she knew.