It was a warm afternoon. The park was brimming with people –trying to get a little light on their skins. On the bench next to a tall tree, sitting with her legs crossed, was an old woman. She had walked a block from her nursing home down the street. In her hand was a red sweater still underway. She had been compelled to knit a red sweater today. She didn’t know why – but then again, she didn’t know much about anything. All she did was hum a little tune as the needle went in and out, closing up the air filled spaces between the threads.

It was their 10th, no 11th date. He stretched out his palm to meet hers – her fingers finding their place between his. He circled his eyes all around until they came to rest on an old woman sitting on a bench holding a red sweater. Abruptly, he stopped in his tracks. His girlfriend looked at him puzzled but he just stood there staring. She called out his name but it was no use. His mind was blocking out her voice. He started crying. He lifted his hand to rub the tears staining his cheeks but it was no use. They kept falling.

“Jon! Jon! Jon what is it? Why are you crying?”

His tears stopped as abruptly as they started and he lifted his face up, wiping the last remaining droplets with the sleeves of his shirt. He took a deep breath and took her hand in his once again, then pulled her along with him until they were feet away from the old woman.

“Jon…” she said calmly.

 “The woman we just passed…..she’s my mother. ” Jon answered.

“That still doesn’t explain why – ”

 “She doesn’t remember me.” He continued.


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