When I was young, my Mom's closet was my favorite place in the world. It was full of soft, sweet smelling flowy things. I used to love to bury myself inside the tightly packed goodies and feel the softness surrounding me. As I got older I would sneak in there while she drank her morning coffee at the kitchen table. It felt like a shopping spree! I would hunt and hunt and hunt for the perfect accent to my outfit. For some reason, wearing her clothes felt like wearing my favorite blanky all day. Pure Comfort.
I spent some time in her closet a few weeks ago. But she wasn't drinking her coffee at the kitchen table. Her clothes were still soft and sweet smelling. I took something home with me from that closet. It's hanging in my guest room closet now. I can't bring myself to put it on.
Yet.
photo by Caseface123
1 comment:
C. has the last voicemail his dad left him before he passed. He has to save it every 21 days.
I don't see anything wrong with hanging on to things from the ones we love.
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