Robert was home alone, his mind fondly recalling a chapter of his life that began with his late wife’s love of knitting. Just when he thought he would spend another Thanksgiving alone, unexpected guests showed up at his door.
“Has anyone seen my jumper?”, Robert asked aloud.
When you’re almost 75 and have lived alone for eight years like Robert, chances are you’ll be talking out loud to yourself and the objects in your house.
“Found it!” – Robert shouted, his eyes lighting up.
He put it on with childish excitement and looked at himself in the mirror.
“Well, what do you think, mirror? Isn’t it still beautiful?” – he said with a smile.
“My wife Gina knitted it for me,” Robert continued, running his hands along the carefully woven lines. Then he added: “Eight years ago, a few weeks before she died…”
Robert imagined Gina sitting in an armchair by the window, knitting for hours and watching passers-by outside.
He remembered how excited she had been when she got her first ball of wool and needles at her retirement party.
“She spent hours learning to knit, practicing various types of weaving…,” Robert said, sitting in the same armchair by the window.
“And oh, the joy on her face when she knitted the first two pairs of socks for our newborn grandchildren! She was thrilled!” – he added.
When the babies grew out of the socks, their mother wanted to throw them away, but Robert intervened. “I will take these socks and other clothes to the orphanage,” he said.
It was the first time he had seen the lives of children in an orphanage. Due to a lack of funding, the children lived with very few clothes. Robert felt bad when he saw some of them running around in used socks.
“I came home and told Gina that she had to knit many more socks for these children. She was happy that she could help the community,” Robert said.
“Over the next year, she knitted again and again. I visited the orphanage every month, bringing new pairs of socks to those children who needed them.”
“One afternoon while I was reading on the bed and she was knitting, Gina put aside her needles and came up to me with a strange feeling.”
“She kissed me, lay down on my chest, and said: “I love you, Robert!”
‘ And she never woke up from that peaceful dream.”
“Weeks went by and the unfinished socks remained on her chair just as she had left them. In a moment of clarity, I decided to learn to knit to finish what my Gina had started,” Robert said, taking off his glasses to wipe away his tears.
“I started knitting and delivering socks myself. But my visits to the orphanage meant much more than that.”
“You see, a group of five young boys waited to see me every week.”
“These boys were energetic and cheerful, but they wanted to learn more about the world that awaited them outside the orphanage.
Robert, who loved to talk to the children, sat on the grass with them, telling the future men stories of bravery and kindness, but remembering to ask tough questions.
“On the other hand, my own children thought I had lost my mind. For one thing, they didn’t expect a retired physics teacher to start knitting. And secondly, they thought I was stupid for giving away these socks for free.”
“So my new passion has given my children another reason to stay away from me. And even today, on Thanksgiving, they found a reason not to visit me.”
“When I saw this orphanage, I couldn’t help but think that Gina’s house would have been filled with children, conversation, and laughter.”
Instead, Robert’s son asked him to come to his house in town if he wanted to see him at the holiday.
“You will have to take two buses and walk for about 15 minutes. You can do that, can’t you?” – his son asked, knowing that Robert had been suffering from severe pain in his knee for months.
“And here I am, all alone, spending another Thanksgiving talking to you,” Robert sighed, looking around his empty house.
“I wish my children and grandchildren would walk through that door right now, with smiling faces, saying ‘Happy Thanksgiving!
At that moment, the doorbell rang.
Robert opened the door, unaware that his wish was about to come true.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Grandpa Bo!”
Five young men stood in front of his door and sang along. Their faces seemed vaguely familiar. It took Robert a moment to think, and he gasped when he realized who they were.
They were boys Robert had spent time with at the orphanage a few years ago.
“This is an even nicer surprise!” – he thought as he hugged each of them and welcomed them into his home.
He thought the boys had forgotten all about him, especially after they had all been adopted.
“Grandpa Bo, we hope you enjoy the crowd, because when we decided to spend Thanksgiving with you, our parents wanted to come with us too. They are outside in their cars. They brought food and drinks. Do you mind if they join us?”
Robert could not be overjoyed to meet the parents of these young gentlemen.
It was like a dream come true: watching an empty house come alive with decorations and dinner being prepared. The bustle in his usually quiet home was like pleasant music to Robert.
“By the way, that jumper still looks great on you ….. And we found something for you to complete your look.”
They hugged Robert and handed him a present. A hat, a knitted scarf and a pair of unusually small handmade woollen socks were wrapped in gold paper.
“You kept the socks I knitted for you… even after all these years!” – Robert said. He could hardly believe what he was seeing.
“We all did it! We will save them for our children!” – another young man added.
Robert sighed with joy and burst into tears.
The old kettle whistled, joining the old man in his expression of tears of joy.
Every Thanksgiving for the rest of Grandpa Beau’s life he was surrounded by the families of these five gentlemen who admired him.
