Smoke and Mirrors

Teaching Mattie how to knit was quite a chore. But a very rewarding one. Mattie was such a modern girl, so bright and educated and well-to-do and sheltered in so many ways. She valued her independence and her work and her ambition. Jean admired that about her. Most of the time. But so much of that ambition blinded her. She saw everything bold and shiny up ahead while treating everything behind her with a level of disdain that never failed to rub Jean the wrong way.

Oh Mattie meant no harm, of course. Jean knew Mattie loved and respected her. But cooking and cleaning and gardening and sewing, these were the only things that Jean had to offer. Mattie looked at all Jean had and saw limitation. Jean looked at all Mattie had and saw privilege. What Jean would have given, when she was Mattie's age, to be able to go to school and work and have the world open to her.

But Jean's life had taken a different path. She'd had her farm and her boys. And now her cooking and cleaning and gardening and sewing. She had this opportunity to share her skills with Mattie, and Mattie was eager to learn, much to Jean's mild surprise and sheer delight.

Jean had thought that she might be able to pass things like this, knitting and such, on to her daughter. She'd never had a daughter of her own, and heaven knew that Ruby wanted nothing to do with her mother-in-law. But she at least she had Mattie.

Lucien came to interrupt them soon enough. He was a welcome distraction for Mattie, it seemed. She was getting a bit disheartened by the complexity of knitting, it seemed. Bless her, though, she wasn't giving up.

Jean continued on, knit one, purl one, and smiled. Perhaps things hadn't turned out as she'd expected or even as she'd hoped. It didn't matter. She had a home and a family of sorts right here. People to teach and care for. And they all sat together in the parlor, talking and laughing as Jean and Mattie continued their knitting and Lucien proudly admired them both.