Unconditional Love

• Claire Harris, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2010

And here he is again. I stop my knitting and look up. He opens the door ever so slightly, making sure it doesn’t creak or disturb Edna. He enters the room, nods his head in my direction, then closes the door again, ever so quietly, as if he wasn’t there at all. A soft click of the latch and he walks over to Edna, who is sitting in her favourite chair, looking out the window to the glistening sea.

I turn back to my knitting, but find my eyes being drawn towards him, not because of the noise, in fact quite the opposite – the silence. People say that the best of friends can share a silence that is comfortable, and now I truly believe them.

He sits cross legged on the floor, as if hoping Edna would remember the times they sat while she taught him how to knit. He glances up and reaches for her hand, and although she takes it and holds it, there is no look of acknowledgement. She just sits there rocking, as if the gentle breeze is washing her thoughts and feelings out the window.

I feel sorry for Thomas, I really do. The poor boy comes every Tuesday night, in the same clothes with a flower or two in his hand. I can only imagine the desperation he must feel about the fact that Edna might make the connection that he is her eight year old grandson. Her eight year old grandson who cares about her so very deeply, so deeply that he goes to the trouble of picking a flower for her every single week. She always smiles and murmurs thank you, and that single word keeps him coming back every week, rain hail or shine.

After about half an hour, he stands, gives Edna a gentle hug and walks out the door. But not before whispering in her ear that he loves her more than anything in the world.

And when he closes the door just as quietly as he had opened it, I feel tears trickling down my face at the unconditional love and acceptance he has for his grandmother.