My Fiancee's Sweater (short story) by Leanne Dyck

My fiancee knew I only knit scarves. And yet, when I asked, "What do you want for Christmas?" 

He replied, "A curling sweater hand-knit by you."

I'll show him I thought. I'll knit that sweater--with Mom's help. 

As Christmas quickly approached, the sweater reached completion. Then we discovered our shortage of yarn. 

No problem, I thought. I'll buy more. I bought more yarn and brought it home. 

"Did you match the dye lot?" Mom asked. 

"Match the what?" 

"The dye lot. It's a number listed on the yarn band. You match the numbers to ensure no unwanted colour stripes. Here bring me the bands and I'll show you the number." 

"I don't have them."

"What do you mean? Where are they?" 

"I threw them out." 

"Oh, Leanne." She said disappointedly, then quickly added. "No trouble. I think these skeins match closely enough." 

Sadly, Mom was wrong. 

It's a beautifully knit sweater--love in every stitch. My husband still wears it. (Well, actually, I've stolen the sweater. I wear it on cold days when I need a hug from Mom and my husband.) However, he has been given clear instructions. NOT OUTSIDE THE HOUSE. 

Lesson learned: match the dye lot number

Twenty years later, a rare photo of my husband and the sweater. Poor guy, early this morning, I sprung on him saying, "Here, put this on. I want to take a picture." Then I blinded him with the flash. He's definitely on Santa's nice list.  

My Favourite Sweater short story by Kathleen Ann Gallagher

Kathleen Ann Gallagher writes: I have always loved sweaters. I don't particularly like winter, but I do like the warmth and comfort a sweater brings. I needed to find a Christmas gift for my mother in-law Mary, who was always cold, and sat daily in her recliner crocheting slipper socks. She handed them out to the entire neighborhood and anyone else she met. She kept a box of multi colored hand made socks by her door. When visitors left she would advice them to take a new pair. She never took no for an answer, so I have a set in every color.

I decided to try a specialty shop in town that carries vintage items along with antiques, candle, Christmas ornaments, and hand-crafted assorted gifts. You can spend an afternoon sifting through the eclectic mix of goodies. I spotted a gorgeous pink sweater that had tiny specks of white weaved into a lovely detailed pattern. It had a pretty pin with purple stones in front to hold it closed. It felt soft and cuddly and I thought it would suit her perfectly.

On Christmas Eve she opened the box and held the sweater up to her face. I don't want this story to sound sad in any way, but I knew this might be her last Christmas. She was in her late eighties and in failing health. She continued to crochet the slipper socks wearing the pink sweater through the winter. My mother in-law peacefully passed away in April.

The day came to clean out her house, which is never easy. We spent an entire day filled with memories some sad, most joyous. I found the sweater lying across the back of her chair. I smiled when I saw it. I took the sweater home with me and I feel a warm embrace whenever I wear it.