Another writing challenge. The power of words. It keeps me grounded in this hectic life. Let’s see how this one goes. Be honest. I’d like feedback on this. A writer should always be open to critiques.
Here is the challenge:
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.
Today’s twist: write the scene from three different points of view: from the perspective of the man, then the woman, and finally the old woman.
As I held my wife’s hand, I glanced over at a woman perched so elegantly on a park bench. She seemed so deep in thought. Her gray hair pulled tightly back in a bun. Her glasses rested at the end of her nose. As we passed by, our eyes locked. Those crystal blue eyes. Grandma. I hadn’t thought about her in so long. She had been gone for a few years now. What I would give to hear her laugh again. To receive one of her hugs. To hear her stories. To wear that small read sweater one more time for her. I tried to hold it together, however, that one lone tear slipped through. I suddenly felt my wife’s embrace. It was a knowing one. An embrace that let me know it was alright to have the memories. We hugged for what seemed an eternity. We then started up our walk. I glanced back to get one last look. The woman was gone. All that was left was a silver knitting needle glistening in the sun. Grandma.
My husband and I were enjoying one of our lovely walks in the park. It was such a lovely late afternoon stroll. The sky was a perfect blue and there was not a cloud in the sky. I was watching a man play fetch with his dog when my husband gripped my hand just a little bit tighter. I looked over and watched the single tear slide downward. I then caught a glimpse of the woman. The knitted red sweater. I embraced him for I knew it was too much. He was trying to be strong but it was difficult. His grandma gave us this beautiful day. She was definitely with us.
He was my pride. Me was my joy. He still is. My one and only grandchild. What a smart and handsome young man he has grown up to be. I watch him every day. I wonder if he notices. I hope he knows how much he means to me still. For all of eternity he is my precious little man. Our eyes locked. Does he recognize the eyes? I let out a gasp. I need to move on for today. Oh how I love my boy. I will leave a piece of me here so that he knows my love lives on forever. I love you.
I hope you all enjoyed it!
You can contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org.