We were silent for a while, and I listened to her breathing and the clicking of the knitting needles. We did this from time to time. I’d call her when I missed her too much and we’d talk for a while, but mostly we’d just be silent together. Being close, despite being hundreds of miles apart.
“What are you knitting?” I asked.
“Socks for your cousin Andrea’s baby.”
“What color are they?”
“Rainbow. I figure this family needs to be educated.”
I snickered. “I think you’re right.”
“I’m always right, I’m your mother. When are you coming back home?”
“I don’t know.” I knew I should go back to her house since I was flying home tomorrow, but I really wanted to stay and get to know Axel better.
“Are you at a friend’s house?”
I hesitated for a second. “Yes.”
“I see. Well, as long as you’re warm and safe.”
“I am.”
We fell back into silence. Besides the click-click-clicking of the needles, sounds from the TV turned down low in the background drifted through the line.