Saroj looked in awe at the box full of brightly coloured threads. Blue, Pink, Red, Green- how beautiful they would look when blended into a shimmery sweater for little Prisha or a scarf for Ma.
When Saroj was young and visited Grandma in summer holidays, they sat for hours in the little room as Grandma weaved magic with the yarn and her needle. This is what I want to do when I grow up, it makes me so happy, Saroj thought.
But no one really makes a living out of spinning yarn these days said Mumma and Daddy and sent Saroj far away to study. Today as a doctor, he had fame, money, lived the high life but there was something missing. Passion it was.
Today on Grandma’s death anniversary, he had received a special gift. Her will mentioned that her most precious belonging- the yarn and needles and her sewing machine be bestowed upon her beloved grandson Saroj.
As he picked up the silky thread and the needle, tears trickled down his eyes. He knew where that gnawing ache came from and he missed Grandma sorely but she had given him the greatest gift of all today.
Linking up with Priceless Joy who hosts a weekly flash fiction for writers.