She walked into the store, and if I could have waved my arms in the air I would have. I watched as she wandered around, touching some things, just glancing at others. She strolled in my direction, and I held my breath as her eyes lit upon me. She smiled softly, and then ran her fingers down my sleeve. Within minutes she had purchased me, and I was on my way home. I wondered who he was, her husband, her boyfriend, just a friend… all I knew for certain was that I now belonged to him. When we arrived home, she tucked me under something else, hiding me from his eyes until she was ready. She handed me to him, and he smiled, then tried me right on. I was a perfect fit. I knew I was where I belonged.
As time passed, I watched as their girls grew up, the boy they took in and made their son wasn’t around as much but I saw the changes in him as well. My lady, and my gentleman had many changes in their lives, and I was so grateful to still be around. My edges frayed, but instead of tearing me into rags, or throwing me out, I spent most of my time in the closet. At least when the youngest daughter wasn’t stealing me to wear… I admit I liked getting out into the light again.
She stopped stealing me from her Dad, and after my seam tore he stopped wearing me as well. No more working in the yard, or the garage. But still they kept me. I watched as he grew older, then got sick. I watched as she worried, and cried. I watched as things got to the point where he wasn’t coming into the room at all anymore, though I could hear his voice if I listened. They no longer slept in the room I could see, though she would come in and get him clothes regularly. If I could have offered my warmth to him I would have, though I was no longer as warm as I once was.
It happened one morning. I heard the sounds of others in the house, and knew he was off to the healing place again. She didn’t come home, not all day, not all night. Others came into the house. They didn’t speak much though, and then they left again. She came home the next morning, with the son, the youngest daughter, and the ex-husband. She was crying. I heard her explaining on the phone. He wouldn’t be coming home again.
It was time. She’d been looking at us all off and on, and it hurt her to see us. I no longer caused her sweet smile, now I was a reason for tears. She and the youngest began pulling us all out of the closet. I was added to a pile to throw into the bin. The youngest run her fingers down my arm, then pulled me, and another one out of the pile putting us to the side. I watched as the eldest, and her youngest, joined my lady as well going through the clothes in the closet, picking what they wanted to keep. The youngest pulled the blue away from me, and handed it to her sister. I saw tears, and a look wanting confirmation that she was getting to keep blue. The youngest held me up, and said “I’ve got the red”, and suddenly I knew. I wasn’t being thrown out, I wasn’t being torn into rags, the youngest was keeping a memory. I was going to a new home.
My left arm has a tear down the lower seam, my wrists are frayed, there’s paint on me in several places, and I’m not nearly as warm as I once was. My lady, and my gentleman have no need of me any longer, but the youngest finds comfort in my arms. So I am home, again.