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Dear John,
Look what I just found! Brushed denim! It came out when we were in college - we both wore it and loved it. And I'll confess that I miss it. Not in that cut and not the jackets. But I do miss the feel of brushed denim.
I remember when we were first dating, and you had a black pair of brushed denim jeans. A couple of weeks later I saw you in a beautiful pair of pearl-gray jeans, and asked you if they were new. And you told me that they were your black ones. In the course of questioning, I discovered that you thought the only way to get your laundry really clean was to add a cup of Clorox to each load.
From that day forward we did laundry together every Friday night. It was just as well, since the dorm washers were known for devouring clothes. It was important for practical and emotional reasons. It did save your wardrobe from universal bleaching. And one Friday night I realized how much I enjoyed folding your underwear.
That never changed. For the rest of college and 34 years of marriage, I continued to enjoy folding your underwear. I miss that now. There's so little laundry to do, without your uniforms and yard clothes and everyday jeans and socks and things. But what I miss most is folding your underwear. The next time I don't do it when I do laundry, I'll think about brushed denim. And I'll smile.
Love you beyond reason,
Joan.
I remember brushed denim; Kyle, too, had a pair of blue brushed denim jeans. He still had clothes he had in high school (not much of an exaggeration) when he died! And thank God I saved him from his mother's "taste" (using that in the broadest sense of the word!). Funny, I used to get mad at Kyle when I had to fold his underwear or socks if he hadn't turned them right-side out; I'd threaten to leave them just as I found them! Now, of course, I'd take them any way I could get them. Love you. Becky
ReplyDeleteFor his whole life, John wore solid-colored polo shirts with either jeans or khakis. That was one of the great things about working at Panera - he already had the right wardrobe. John's laundry failing was leaving ballpoint pens from work in his pockets. After having a couple melt in the dryer, I started checking for them. He'd leave change in his pockets - and I unintentionally laundered his money!
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