Nanna was instantly captivated! She couldn't look away.
There, in the window of the Art House gallery, beneath a pool of warm golden light, rested the most beautiful emerald-green purse she had ever seen.
It was centered on a cream-colored marble display shelf, with matching marble walls behind it. Two elegant golden display lamps illuminated the purse from either side.
The deep green color of the purse reminded Nanna of her doll's beautiful eyes. She wished to own the purse. As she was making plans on how to own the most elegant accessory that ever existed, her neighbor friend called her from a distance: "Hey there, come play with us!" she said to Nanna.
Nanna finally looked away and saw the neighbor kids in front of the little market that was across from the Art House gallery. The two places were across from each other, with a small street between them.
Summer made this little neighborhood feel like a world of its own. At the end of the street stood a four-story house, almost completely hidden behind the old orange trees. There was a cute boy living in that house. Nanna was too shy to talk to him. The cute boy sometimes talked to her.
Just down the way was Nelly's house on the left side of the street, between the cute boy's house and the market. Nelly's house was exactly the same distance from both sides.
Tucked farther along on the right side of the street was Grandmother's house, a warm and familiar place to Nanna that always felt like the heart of the neighborhood. Ms. Gol's house stood right next to Grandmother's, completing this little circle of homes where everyone seemed to know everyone.
In summer, the whole street came alive. Jasmine climbed and spilled its sweet fragrance into the warm air. Lilacs bloomed softly beside the walls, and lavender lined little corners of the street, filling the afternoons with a gentle purple haze. The air smelled of flowers, ripe oranges, sun-warmed earth, and the promise of another long evening outside.
"I like that purse in the Art House gallery so much!" Nanna said to Nelly. "I think it's very expensive!" Nelly replied, scrunching her nose. "Why do you need a purse? You don't need such a thing till you are older with lots of things to carry!" Nelly's younger brother, Kia, said to Nanna.
"I want to carry my paintings in it," Nanna said, looking back in the direction of the Art House.
Nanna was the youngest kid on the block. Kia was almost her age but a few months older, and Nelly was two years older than Nanna. The cute boy was older than all of them, and he was too cool to play with them, but sometimes he came to escape his boredom when his friends weren't around to hang out with.
That evening, after the sun began to fade, Nanna sat next to Grandmother playing with her doll, Sage. "I saw the most beautiful purse today, the color of Sage's eyes!" Nanna said to Grandmother. "Where did you see it?" asked Grandmother. "At the Art House Gallery's window," Nanna said. "It was decorated so nicely!" she continued.
The next day, after she came home to join Grandmother for dinner after playing with the neighbor kids, she saw a small knitted piece that was unfinished on Grandmother's kitchen table. "What are you knitting?" Nanna asked Grandmother. "It's a bag for you!" Grandmother replied.
Every evening after that, Grandmother sat at her kitchen table, her fingers moving gently through the yarn, loop by loop, until the last stitch was placed and the purse was complete.
To Nanna, this little hand-knitted purse meant everything!
It was hand-knitted from the softest green yarn, the kind of green that reminded her of Sage's eyes.
Its tiny stitches ran across the bag in neat, wavy rows, making the whole thing look as though someone had woven it together one little loop at a time.
A curved flap folded gently over the top, decorated with a thin line of golden thread. Little golden stitches danced along the edge, uneven in the sweetest way.
The bag had a long, knitted handle that curved like a little bridge, just the right size to slip over Nanna's tiny shoulder.
Nanna imagined carrying it down the lane, swinging it beside her as she walked, with perhaps a tiny treasure hidden inside — her paintings, or dried flowers nestled between secret notes from the cute boy.
She ran her fingers over the soft stitches.
It wasn't fancy like the bags in shop windows.
To Nanna, it was much more special than that.
It was made by hand, with love tucked quietly into every stitch by Grandmother! It was perfect, and the only purse she would keep for life.
