When the morning comes

22 | knitted fashion

When the kitchen wasn't smelling like food and the extractor hood wasn't to be heard, most likely Aurora's hands were busying with something that contained fabrics, needles and a sewing machine. Two of her biggest passions. Food and clothes. Whereas Matteo had taught her how to cook, Giulia had started teaching Aurora how to sew the moment her fine motor skills were developed well enough.

From skirts to shirts, to sweaters and coats- Aurora had sewed and knitted a lot of clothes herself. When she'd had an old shirt she didn't like no more or had simply outworn, she'd cut it up, grab her needles and spool of thread and make something out of it for Benjamin or, if I was unlucky, something for me. And if she didn't have much inspiration, we would visit thrift shops and if she really was desperate, some other cities.

Her taste in clothes had always been interesting. Her Italian roots were seen in her clothes and when we had stayed in Milan, the city of fashion, for a little more than a week, she had been more inspired than ever. Aurora became a walking brand herself. My mother would only have to glance at me once and she'd ask if it was her. It wasn't in a bad way, I just wasn't always used to the expressive clothes she had made for me.

When she had knitted me a sweater for the winter, I wasn't sure if I had seen a sweater with so many colours processed in one piece of clothing before. Honestly or not, at some point when we were married, she wore the strangest things and Benjamin's clothing represented the clothing of the little prince of Cambridge. Even then, she could wear joggers and a hoodie and look as good as whenever she would wear a dress. It was something I loved about Aurora. Never had she cared about somebody else's opinions before. She created what she liked, wore what she liked, and made us boys wear what she thought looked good on us.

I hadn't protested much, knowing her temper would come up and I wouldn't ever win that. My mind took me back to the day where I met my shiny Clarks first.

"No." I shook my head, frowned at the shoes on my feet. "No, seriously. It's a no."

"Sole, yes." Aurora rolled her eyes, then made her eyes look bigger as she brought her face up to mine. "Yes. You look handsome. Remember the grey and beige suit trousers I sewed you? The dark grey turtle neck knit? Oh, bell'uomo. You will look so handsome."

"Aurora, no." I groaned, kicking them off my feet. "It makes me look like I'm rich, I hate that."

"It does not make you look rich. Only well dressed." She'd rolled her eyes again. "Come on, Zev. It's a treasure! Treasure in a thrift shop! They're so cheap, and your size only. It's meant to be."

"Mamma." Benjamin shoved open the curtain from the dressing room. His zipper and button were open and a frown creased his forehead.

I had chuckled, remembered the expression on his six years old face. Aurora furrowed her eyebrows and closed the curtains. "Didn't I teach you how to dress properly?" She cursed in Italian. "There are girls in here! Do you want them to see you with your pants open wide?"

I had stepped inside the small changing room, too. Saw how Benji had been pulling on the fabric that was around his precious parts. "Mamma, it's too tight. It hurts." Aurora laughed, melting the insides of me like snow in the sun whilst spreading her warmth, letting it land onto the earth with a soft force.

"Sorry, amore." She observed him. Socks reaching his knees, beige shorts that reached just above them, with a white, long sleeved button up tucked into it. "Wow. Would you like it if mamma sewed you these in your size?"

Benjamin had given me a panicky look. I had winked at him, mouthing that he really had looked handsome. It had made him feel secure. He turned around in the mirror, admired himself for a moment. "Can you make them in a way that it won't stuff my underwear up my bu-"