The Sisterhood of the Dropped Stitches Read Free

didn’t want to go to church with her after he left just in case he ever asked me about it. I didn’t want him to think I’d chosen Mom over him.
    And, if I wasn’t going to go to church for real, I didn’t think it was exactly fair to go to church for some kind of counseling. Besides, I had gotten cancer not long after Mom became a Christian, so I wasn’t feeling too kindly toward God anyway.Wasn’t He supposed to take care of people who said they were Christians? Shouldn’t He have taken better care of me since Mom prayed for me and she had joined up with Him? It didn’t seem fair.
    But I couldn’t keep all of my angry feelings inside.
    So, I talked to Rose, a student counselor at the hospital. Rose was the one who first decided the four of us—me, Carly, Becca and Lizabett—needed to be in a group together. She said we should be like normal teenagers and have a club.
    I remember wondering at the time just how normal she expected us to be when we were all staring death in the face. Rose had been an elementary school teacher for some years before she went back to graduate school, so she was prepared for life. Still, she looked as scared as I felt.
    I suspected comforting me was worse for Rose than comforting her usual clients, because she and I had become friends in the weeks I’d known her. I had to become close to her. She was my rock. I talked to her about the things I couldn’t talk to my mom about. I needed Rose. But that didn’t stop me from telling her I didn’t want to belong to any stupid cancer group.
    â€œCancer? Who said anything about a cancer group?” Rose said after a brief pause. “No, no, I’m talking about starting a knitting group. Lots of people knit these days.”
    I know the knitting idea just flew into Rose’s head when I was so stubborn about joining a cancer group. But once she said it, the whole thing seemed to take root. Apparently, her farm-raised grandmother had taught Rose how to knit, and she was happy—maybe even relieved—to teach us. She told me later she was glad she could do something concrete with her hands to help us.
    Rose’s grandmother was fond of old sayings and quotes, so Rose decided one of us would bring a quote to each meeting in case we ran out of things to talk about while we sat there tangled in all of our yarn.
    I had been telling Rose about the grill guy for the twentieth time when she thought of having a club. I soon learned that not being able to date some guy was the least of my troubles. I’m not sure how I would have gotten through all the chemo and the scared feelings without the Sisterhood. Before long I would have knitted those scarves with my teeth if I’d had to just so I could keep meeting with the Sisterhood.
    This was almost six years ago, and we all made it.
    Let me repeat that. We all made it. Three cheers. I still feel good every time I say that.
    The prognosis for all of us was different, but five years was the longest time any of us had needed to wait to become officially Survivors. There hasn’t been a week in all that time when we’ve consideredstopping the Sisterhood for more than a holiday break. If it’s not Thanksgiving or Christmas, every Thursday the five of us meet in The Pews—that’s the name of my Uncle Lou’s diner. We sit at the big table in the back room and knit.
    These days, one of my favorite times is when someone brings a quote to the Sisterhood meeting. I think it was the quotes that made us turn so reflective that we decided to set some goals last year. Reaching the five-year mark was such a major thing—I can’t even describe it. We couldn’t think of anyway big enough to celebrate, so Rose suggested we all make a special goal for the next year—something that would show we were taking our lives back.
    All I can say about those goals is that I wish I hadn’t gotten caught up in the optimism