Mother is sitting knitting a sweater.

BAC NINH - Every morning on my way to work, passing through Nguyen Van Cu Street, right at the intersection with Le Loi Street (Bac Giang Ward), I often stop to admire the elderly woman knitting sweaters. The image of mothers and sisters knitting sweaters in the old days, from a time of hardship, comes back to me, warm and endearing.

On a late afternoon at the end of the year, when all the preparations for Tet (Lunar New Year) were complete, I ordered a cup of hot tea by the roadside and leisurely sat down to chat and confide in an old man. His name was Mr. Lam, and he was 94 years old, but he was still sharp-minded, with a loud, clear, and strong voice, though he was a little hard of hearing.

She said, "I've been knitting sweaters since I was 16. Now I'm 94, and if I stay healthy, I'll knit for another two years, making it 80 years in total. I started knitting when I was a young girl, and now I'm the great-grandmother of more than a dozen great-grandchildren; I knit sweaters for my husband, my children, my grandchildren, and now my great-grandchildren. I knit for relatives, neighbors, and anyone who needs them."

Illustration: HN.

Grandma Lam said that knitting sweaters is a way to cultivate diligence, patience, and high concentration. Knit a little each day, without overexerting yourself, so that your back doesn't ache and your eyes don't get blurry.

“I knitted this sweater for hire! The ladies knitted it for them and then brought their yarn to me to knit more. It takes a month to finish one, and I pay 300,000 dong per sweater. I only accept payment if it looks good on me. Even at my age, I still earn an extra 10,000 dong a day. It's wonderful!”, Mr. Lam proudly boasted.

Looking at the nearly finished sweater, I realized its uniqueness and understood why, among the countless ready-made sweaters and coats available, people still wait months to have one made just for themselves. Perhaps, beyond its uniqueness, it also evokes nostalgia, a reminder of a time when "mother sat knitting sweaters"...

My childhood was also spent surrounded by my mother's balls of yarn. In the old days, with meager salaries for civil servants, mothers and grandmothers would often take advantage of lunch breaks, evenings, and days off to knit sweaters for hire to earn money to support their children's education. I remember my mother used to knit sweaters with cable knit patterns, diamond patterns, and thick, warm coats that were usually only worn when it was very cold, or when attending a feast or special occasion at home.

Back then, there was no electricity. In the evenings, after dinner, cleaning up, and the children had gone to school, my mother would sit down to knit sweaters. Sometimes, after a good night's sleep, I would wake up to find her still diligently knitting by the light of an oil lamp. My mother told me that the closer it got to Tet (Lunar New Year), the more people wanted their sweaters, so she had to work even harder, day and night, to fulfill orders and to earn some extra money for the family to prepare for Tet.

Occasionally, my sisters and I would also get to "borrow" a sweater vest, a pair of socks, or a colorful scarf made from leftover yarn that Mom collected. Or, from old sweaters that my sisters had worn for many years, when the yarn had frayed, Mom would frugally unravel them, roll them up, and meticulously knit them so I could have a new sweater.

During the rationing period, fabric for making clothes was distributed by the meter, so owning a knitted sweater, even a repurposed one, was very rare and precious. My friends would often be envious whenever I got a new sweater, and I would proudly show it off, saying it was knitted by my mother. I would wear it day after day until it was worn out.

Nowadays, clothes are readily available in all styles and designs; everyone buys so much that their wardrobes are overflowing, everything is readily available. The round balls of yarn that used to be hard to find, with few types and colors, are now readily available, both imported and domestic; you can just sit at home and choose, and they'll be shipped right to your door. My mother used to repurpose knitting needles, whittled from bamboo chopsticks; sometimes they would break while knitting, adjusting the waist, or fitting into the armholes, because the yarn was too thick, and she'd have to go and whittle them again. Now, there are all kinds of knitting needles; stainless steel needles, wooden needles, plastic needles, in all sizes and types… The variety of woolen goods is also incredibly rich and diverse, so the traditional craft of knitting has almost disappeared, with only a few people like Mr. Lam finding joy in knitting in their old age.

This Tet holiday, watching Mr. Lam knitting, for some reason, I remembered the song "My Mother" by composer Tran Tien: "Mother, I am old now, I sit absentmindedly remembering the old house. In the old days, father sat drinking wine, mother sat knitting. Outside, in winter, the banyan tree sheds its leaves..."

Winter is gone, father is no more, the old house has been rebuilt, but the memories of a time when "mother sat knitting sweaters" remain intact, serving as a reminder and a support for those children who are now "old," to cherish life more today.

Thu Huong

Source: https://baobacninhtv.vn/me-ngoi-dan-ao-postid439788.bbg