The Story of the Mittens


It's funny how stories start coming out of the woodwork when you start sharing. We're sitting in the hotel room at the Fairmont Pacific Rim, looking out over Stanley Park and some beautiful coastal mountains while discussing my "run in" with Grandma.  See post here.  Mom and Kyla didn't realize they hadn't told me their here we go.

The story of the mittens

Grams was our constant supplier of knit goods from tuques to mittens to blankets.  She was constantly replenishing our stock and would happily make us anything we wanted.  Nobody was left ungifted with one of her creations and to be honest, they were always my favourite pieces in my winter collection and they usually garnered the most compliments.  When we were going through her things after she passed away, I kept some of her knitting needles to put with my memories of her.

This past winter two moments involving some of Grams' mittens happened to my sister.

Jamison wears a cute little pair of knit mittens in the fall and I'm sure they've been passed through all the kids.  He had been wearing them earlier in the day as Kyla, Mom and Dad played with him on the burm overlooking the train during piano lessons.  I feel like it needs to be noted that they go to lessons on the other side of their neighbourhood from their home. 
Later that day while heading to the bus stop, the trio were heading to the bus stop to gather the kids.  At this point, no one even knew that Jamie had lost a mitten.
While crossing the road (and checking both ways because they're responsible that way), Kyla noticed something in the middle the road and went to go pick it up.
In disbelief, she found Jamison's lone mitten.

Clearly Grams did not want you to lose that mitten, Jamison.


During the ringette season, Kinsey is constantly losing her mittens.
And her pants. And her books. And her glasses.  And her blanket. I looked everywhere Grandma, you know I don't look well. Can you go look for me?  
So of course she was heart broken (and likely dramatic) when she lost a mitten (Kyla probably also didn't give her any pie). 
So what are the chances that months later while parking at the rink that when Kyla opens her door and looks down, the lost mitten is laying there in the snow?


The more you hear the stories, the more I want to believe that you do have angels walking beside you in life, possibly retrieving your mittens.

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