Gemotions

The rhythmic click of the needles, the soft, yielding texture of the wool—for years, this had been Sarah’s sanctuary. In the evenings, curled up in her favorite armchair, the world outside, with its stresses, fell away.

Her son, Ben, then a teenager, used to just watch. He'd sit and study.

One day, he'd asked her to show him. He'd wanted to make something, to feel the comfort of the thread. He picked it up quickly, and he was even better at it. He's made her a sweater. Now, they knit together, as the house fills with laughter and yarn.