20 years ago our family moved from Mexico to Texas- we lived for 3 months with my parents; it was a cold, wet December and my mother lent me her blue wool cardigan. I wasn't a knitter back then, but I loved the bulky merino wool, the thick cables, hidden front pockets, and narrow plaid ribbon trimming the button placket; hmmm, the sweater hugged my body just right."You can keep it!" Mom announced one day. . .but she must have missed that lovely sweater-"You can have it when I die!" she said.
Years marched on and we bantered about the blue sweater, "I left our sweater in the restaurant, but Dad went back for it. . .I wore our sweater when I walked the Golden Gate. . .remember, I'll will it to you!"
it was our sweater but she was wearing it!
So early this month my sisters and I sorted boxes in Mom's damp, chilly garage; then I remembered the blue sweater- I pushed back the clothes tightly packed in her closet, and there hung our sweater, the sleeves carefully draped across the shoulders on the hanger.
Day after day I worked in my mother's cold garage without her. . . wearing our sweater-it hugged my body just right.
And last week I packed my suitcase with memories of Mom; I considered the blue sweater, now worn and frayed-still lovely. I set it aside- because the story is enough.
2 comments:
i read this story with tears in my eyes. indeed -- the story is enough! a story i remember us living : )
oh man, yes a tear jerker...and what in the world were you thinking leaving the sweater? stories need props!
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