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Clothes I Once Knew

Sometimes my mind drifts to clothes I once knew but do no more. Ask my clothes, they’d say, “All my friends are donated.”

No, not the grey flannel shorts I bought at Loehman’s when I was in my second year at UVa–I still have those and, come winter, I wear them. But the short black Secret Agent Man trench coat I bought at James Davis in the early 2000s, I grieve it. I gave it away because I didn’t need so very many coats. As with all the departed clothes, I have given away what I loved because I had too many clothes I loved.

Hoarding, Tommy Payne at the Door of Hope Writing Group called it as he told me about giving away sweaters.

I didn’t want to be hoarding.

So. Out the door went the jaunty trench coat and the …


When this urge hits, I can’t start thinking of what once was but is no more mine. It only leads to loss.

Or perhaps the image of a young chick walking down the street (no sidewalk for her) in a leather top hat, green Army boots, and the Secret Agent double breasted trench coat, black.

Our Blue Christmas house where the King appears to be wearing my trench coat

giving away clothes

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