MiaEvans - Sweater Weather

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MiaEvans - Sweater Weather

MiaEvans

Forever fiery.
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She tears her eyes from the laptop screen when she hears the sudden crash from two doors down, and in spite of the exasperated "oh no!" that can be heard, Mia finds herself getting off of her bed with little sense of urgency. She slowly heads towards the large master bedroom to determine the source of the ruckus. And there she is, in all of her glory - tiptoeing on a wooden chair while stretching her 5-foot-frame to reach the box on the highest shelf in the closet. She's panting in exertion and grumbling in frustration, cursing her rounded belly for repeatedly bumping into the clothes that are hanging beneath the shelf and thus preventing her from successfully grabbing the box she needs. Mia can't help the chuckle that slips from her lips as she leans against the door frame, watching her grandmother in amusement. This has become the norm for the past few Saturdays, and it had only been a matter of minutes before the inevitable would have happened again.

"Mama," she calls out, momentarily startling the white-haired woman in front of her.

Mama glances over her shoulder and greets her granddaughter with a delighted smile that effectively distracts from the numerous wrinkles on her face. "Sweetie! Can you help me? I can't reach the box."

As usual, Mia does; she can more easily reach the box, more easily carry it to her grandmother's bed, and more easily open it up for her. This time however, she sits upon the bed and watches Mama pull the knitting supplies out, curiously examining the progress that has been made on her latest project.

The Californian weather was slowly cooling down, which meant the sweaters that were packed in the back of people's closets would soon be pulled out to make their short appearance. It also meant Mama would be back to her old ways of knitting every free minute that she had, regardless of the arthritic pain in her fingers, the back aches resulting from her gardening activities, and the fatigue from her long days in the kitchen. Others would be concerned for the 80-year-old's well-being; she needed to rest more than she currently was. But, it never bothered nor surprised Mia to see her grandmother work persistently. After all, it wasn't a mere coincidence that all the women in her family were so annoyingly stubborn.

"Are you making me a sweater yet, Mama?" Mia asks as she lies beside the older woman's lap, watching her pull out a white, fluffy vest-piece to add similarly white, fluffy sleeves to.

"Oh, not yet, honey. I have to make your grandpa's sweater first. You know how he is."

Playfully, Mia pouts. "That's not fair. I can throw a fit too, you know. Besides, remember when you'd make me sweaters first? And matching pants and hats?"

Mama chuckles, leaning over to pinch Mia's rosy cheek. "That's because you used to be adorable."

Mia scoffs, turning her head to hide her smile from her laughing grandmother. "Lies, Mama, lies," she taunts jokingly before turning to look back at her and watch her beginning to work on the knitting. "Why don't you just give me some yarn, a couple of needles, and I'll make a sweater for myself then."

That causes the older woman to break into a fit of laughter - belly-shaking and cough-inducing chortles - that only stops when she needs to catch her breath. "Uh uh. You stick to all of that book-reading and studying you do," she chuckles with a wave of her hand.

"Hmph" is Mia's simple reply. "I'm a fast learner."

"I'm not denying that, honey. But your last attempt at knitting a scarf was just pitiful."

It was - even if Mia won't vocally admit to it. She got the basic stitching technique down and followed a simple-enough pattern to ensure she could make a warm scarf in time for the winter rainstorms: a long, rectangular piece about 50 or so stitches wide. But, she couldn't decide whether she wanted something more sturdy to wrap around her neck or something more flexible to the touch. Unfortunately, this ambivalence was evident in her work as the stitches randomly varied from tight to loose and from rough to soft, eventually resulting in a hole in the middle of the scarf.

A hole that Mama peeked through before breaking down in laughter.

It was an ongoing joke between the two: Mia never acquiring the skills to be the housewife that Mama was at her age because she remained so fixated on her academics. The older woman didn't view this as a bad thing - not anymore, at least. Perhaps Mia's relentless efforts finally paid off: she would constantly retort Mama's taunting with sharp comments on how it was no longer the 18th century. "Besides," she would often reply, "marriage is overrated. I don't need a man to be dragging me down, Mama. If I end up settling down, it's going to be with someone who can keep up with me. Not like grandpa," she would tease.

Mama was no less sassy: "You best find a man to make me some great-grandbabies with, Mia. That requires marriage whether you like it or not."

Their bantering was always in good fun, and Mia made sure her grandmother knew that, only feeling satisfied with her teasing when Mama broke down into loud giggles.

"I'll make you your sweater next, my sweet baby girl," Mama lightly coos with a smile tugging at her lips. "I promise you'll get it before Christmas. It'll look better than those flimsy things that you get from Macy's."

Mia chuckles as she rests her chin on her grandmother's knee, smiling as she watches her frail hands gracefully stitch away.

"I like your sweaters better anyway, Mama," she softly admits with a sigh.
 
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