Enjoying the beautiful sunning day as they walk down the park trail. The softness and gentle touch of his girlfriend hands, wrapped around his rough hand. They walk with a steady pace, not worried about the incoming traffic of speed walkers and runners approaching from behind as if a herd of buffalo running away from the hunters. The couple approaches a bench ahead, where a old woman, sits quickly, not disturb from the approaching herd. There her hands and mind, working today as one unit, knitting a small sweater.
Up ahead, I see the outline of what appears to be a old woman. I look towards my girlfriends face and we disguise about our big moment next week. It will be wonderful moment for her and I, as we exchange our vowels in front of family and friends. With our slow pace, I begin to see that this old woman appears to have something is her hand. I tried hard to squint my eyes to make out she has in those fragile hands. Using my left hands I remove my sunglasses and squint harder and then the words coming from my girlfriend month become silence to my ears. These ears always happy to hear that beautiful voice, but for today, it ignored it. My eyes begin to fully make out what this old lady has in her hand, a red sweater and then my eyes target her face. With no warning a waterfall of tears waved down my face and my hand loses grip from that soft hand that I will place a symbol of our love for each other in a few days.
In a few days, I will take the last name of the man I love. Enjoying these last few day as girlfriend and boyfriend, walking down a trial where we met for time. I notice that his concretion started to focus on someone or something straight ahead. As we walk, my conversation with him was abruptly stop, by a fast stream of tears. Not know what has happening, I felt hand lose touch with mine. Without understand what going on, I try to comfort him and the continuous word coming from my month, “what wrong?”, “what wrong?”. Using his hand, he point straight ahead, toward an old women. A old women, enjoying the day like us, knitting a red sweater. As my eye glanced toward her, I realize what he was seeing. It was hard to believe, but I had walk a few more feet just to make sure what I was seeing. In my head, I couldn’t believe it, could only be sign that she knew and approved. His grandmother was buried with her red sweater that she was knitting.
The man was raised by his grandmother. She was not only a lovely grandmother, but a mother to. She joined me and the other angels in heaven a day before her grandson was going to get her approval about marry the girl of his dream. To request the ring that she wanted him to passed down to him for the young lady that he going to spend the rest of his life with. unfortunately, she never was able to hear that news and with my approval, I gave him grandmother, a chance to send him a sign, that she approve and what better place to do that then where he met his future wife.
Day Nine: Point of View
Today’s Prompt: A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write this scene.
Twist: Write the scene from 3 different points of view. From the perspective of the man, then the woman, and finally the old woman.