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