Sweaters & Sentiment

Dear John,

 

I made you proud again, didn't I? I went to Fort Wayne armed with birthday-month coupons and sale fliers, and spent money on clothes.

 

I can't claim much credit. There was an emergency - I was down to two 15-year-old pairs of jeans that are in tatters, and I can't go to Florida that way. After looking all over for cheap jeans, I have once again concluded that the only jeans that fit me are from Coldwater Creek. So I have three new pairs - blue, cream, and brown. And they fit. And I'll probably wear these for fifteen years and then demote them to yardwork jeans, like the last ones.

 

I passed Christopher & Banks on the way, and discovered another 40%-off sale. So I spent $45 there for a jacket and two long-sleeved tee shirts - not bad at all.

 

And this is what you'll really love: I moved up from Walmart's finest to two professionally-fitted bras that didn't cost much more than Walmart. But they're real bras. And they really fit. (I'm kind of the same way with bras that I am with jeans.) And they're comfortable, and my clothes fit much better now.

 

I wish I could show you everything. You'd love all of it. And you'd also love the big bag of clothes in the car to go to Goodwill. Honestly, some of it is over twenty years old. And I know because I remember where we lived when I got it. I surprised myself when I was bagging it up to go. I had an attack of sentimentality because it's all connected with you. You were with me when I bought some of it, and the sweaters I remember wearing when we did things together. Part of me doesn't want to let anything go that has any connection to you.

 

That's silly and selfish. I will remember doing things with you even without having the clothes I was wearing. And the Nativity Fast will start in eleven days, so it's a season for almsgiving. I can't keep clothes that other people need. That's wrong, and doing it because I'm feeling sentimental about you is doing wrong in your name. So I will give in your name instead. I'll be generous with my clothes and my heart. And my lap - Abby has been curled up and purring in it most of the evening.

 

It's late, the cats are getting drowsy, and the dog is outside barking to come in. I'll get your little family together and put us all to bed. If you can stop by tonight, I'll show you my new clothes!

 

Love you always and forever,

Joan.