Why Inna was knitting booties, she herself did not know… Her daughter was 40, had been widowed two years ago, and had never had children. Last year, she remarried. Her husband was younger and wanted to live for himself. Her son had long ago moved to America and had no plans to return. The nephews had grown up, but they were still too young for children. Probably just some beautiful Latvian yarn had caught her eye. She only took one skein. The colors were magical, delicate. She thought—maybe a vest for herself. She bought thin needles, a crochet hook, and started knitting.
She didn’t notice how she ended up knitting tiny booties. And there was still so much yarn left. By evening, a bonnet was ready, and the next day, pants with a bib and a little sweater were knit. Inna took out a large box of buttons, chose beautiful, tiny ones shaped like little ladybugs. Then she went to the bathroom, mixed up a wool wash in a basin, and gently washed the set, sighing, ‘I’ll die without ever holding my grandchildren in my arms.’ Inna laid the knitted items on a terry sheet spread out on the table: ‘But there is a child somewhere in the world who needs this.’ She opened her laptop and started looking for orphanages in her city. She read up. She dressed and went to the store. Bought more yarn, this time with more shades of blue, and sat down to knit again. She made a set for a boy. Then she knitted ten pairs of booties and ten warm hats. All in different colors. Inna went to the Orphanage. ‘We can’t take them without a certificate,’ the employee told her, ‘You should have brought diapers, they’re always needed.’ But Inna stood and cried. ‘Okay,’ the woman said, ‘we’ll figure something out. Come on, let’s dress them in your booties.’ Inna held the babies, kissed their tender cheeks, cooing, ‘Such little ones. They need a mother.’
She put booties on tiny feet, and for the older ones, she tried on the knitted hats. Then she left. Her husband came home late from work and asked how things were. She didn’t know what to say. Dinner wasn’t ready, the fridge was empty. — ‘I was knitting booties at the Orphanage. They said diapers were more needed,’ said Inna and looked at her husband. — ‘Alright,’ he replied, ‘let’s cook some potatoes, and tomorrow we’ll buy diapers.’ Inna took out a pot and started washing vegetables. ‘We won’t get a child, we’re old, I’m 61, and you’re 62.’ — ‘Maybe they won’t give us one, but they won’t nail the door shut either, we can make an arrangement. Come by, help out. And the booties, socks will be useful. — ‘There’s a pair, a boy and a girl, twins, light-haired. They’re almost 2 years old. I think the knitted suits will fit, maybe a bit big, but children grow fast. The booties will be just right, I made them in the shape of sneakers.’ — ‘Let’s go together,’ said her husband. ‘I’ll arrange it. We’ll visit.’ And he did arrange it. For four months, Inna and her husband volunteered. Inna knitted new suits and booties, for them to grow into. The twins already called her mom. But one day they came, and the children were gone.
— ‘Can you imagine, they were adopted, both of them. We made their photo in your knitted suits, and that same day, a couple called. They’ve been preparing documents for months. This morning they took them. We were afraid until the last moment that they wouldn’t want both. Inna’s tears welled up. — ‘Why are you crying, silly,’ said her husband, ‘you should be happy.’ Their daughter called, — ‘Mom, can you and dad come over? I need help.’ — ‘Is the faucet broken,’ asked Inna, ‘or did the neighbors flood you again?’ — ‘I need a bed assembled,’ replied her daughter, ‘come over, don’t call, just use your keys.’ — ‘Alright, we’ll come.’ They got in their Volga and drove. Their daughter’s three-room apartment sparkled clean. Something delicious smelled from the kitchen. Inna and her husband took off their coats and put on slippers. — ‘Wash your hands and come to the room,’ shouted the daughter, ‘I’ll be right there.’ They sat on the couch and started watching the news. Suddenly, her husband nudged her. She looked up. There in the doorway was her son-in-law—Dima. In his arms sat those very twins, dressed in the suits she’d knitted, and in little knitted sneaker-booties. The boy held a piece of apple, and the girl, with smeared cheeks, sneakily looked around and tried to bite the apple. Dima smiled.
— ‘I don’t even know how to say it. Anyway, you have grandchildren now. We didn’t tell you, we didn’t know if it would be possible to arrange it. Jeanne will be here soon, she’s cooking porridge for them. A flushed Jeanne ran up. — ‘Mom, dad, meet Tanya and Volodya. I saw their photo on the ‘Children Wait’ page. They’re twins, like me and my brother. And they’re wearing booties just like the ones you knitted for us. Remember, in the photo when we were 2 years old. I showed my husband the kids, and he said—’we’re taking them.’ Dima put the children down. They ran to Inna, reaching out their little hands, and screamed: ‘mama, mama!’ She hugged them and kissed them, wiping away tears: ‘I’m not your mom, I’m your grandma, granny.’ And kept repeating: ‘granny, granny, granny’ Her husband laughed: ‘And now why are you crying? Time to buy more wool.’
