A few days ago, I spent some time in my closet shaking the dust off my hanging clothes, reminiscing about how nice it once felt to put on a proper outfit and wondering if I’ll ever do it again. I know that sounds extreme to the American readers of this newsletter who are celebrating your vaccinations (yay!) and allowing yourselves to hope once more, but here in the Texas of Canada, we’re struggling through a third wave because of bad leadership from our provincial government. At the rate we’re going, I won’t be wearing real clothes until 2022.
So sorry to hear you are in another lockdown! I wish I could send you all vaccines from here. Your post made me remember when I put on a heavy Irish cable knit cardigan that had been my mother's and unexpectedly found something in the pocket—three round pebbles and a soft, worn blue Kleenex tissue. I remembered the picture she'd sent me of the last time she and my dad went to Zion canyon in Utah, which she loved. She'd been wearing that sweater. I know she put the stones in there on that trip, because she always used to pick up smooth pebbles. When I made the connection between the pebbles and that photo I cried and cried. This was several months after she died after a multi-year ordeal with colon cancer and I know she knew when that photo was taken that was the last time she would be healthy enough to make that trip. It was like she was reaching out her hand to me in the pocket. I'm getting teary just writing this down again. 😥 Sigh.
I have eaten
the jellybeans
that were in
your pocket
and which
you were probably
saving
for crises
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so stale
Best comment ever.
So sorry to hear you are in another lockdown! I wish I could send you all vaccines from here. Your post made me remember when I put on a heavy Irish cable knit cardigan that had been my mother's and unexpectedly found something in the pocket—three round pebbles and a soft, worn blue Kleenex tissue. I remembered the picture she'd sent me of the last time she and my dad went to Zion canyon in Utah, which she loved. She'd been wearing that sweater. I know she put the stones in there on that trip, because she always used to pick up smooth pebbles. When I made the connection between the pebbles and that photo I cried and cried. This was several months after she died after a multi-year ordeal with colon cancer and I know she knew when that photo was taken that was the last time she would be healthy enough to make that trip. It was like she was reaching out her hand to me in the pocket. I'm getting teary just writing this down again. 😥 Sigh.
Thanks for sharing such a beautiful story. ❤️❤️