It's a good thing I'm not very sentimental.
They were rescues, you know. I found them there, cast off, disliked by someone else, smashed between other hopefuls vying for my attention.
They were a perfect fit and we immediately established that comfortable rapport as if we'd always known each other.
They've been with me nearly everywhere for the last five or six years. I can barely imagine a life without them. They've been like a part of our family, even included in our family photos.
They've grown old and it's time for them to go, but I just can't seem to let go. I nurse them along and try to hang on to the last scraps of what we've had together.
It's not the same any more. They can't go as many places as they used to. They are fragile and sensitive. Strangers find them off-putting and look away. So it goes when those we love grow infirm. Strangers may balk, but their beauty is only enhanced to me by their frailties.
I took them out today as I have on so many other days, knowing that this would probably be our last day together. We visited the place where we first met, as we often have over the years, and quietly wandered there together.
My heart broke today and I felt guilty for already making plans for a life without them. "I can't do this," I whispered. "Not with you here."
There will be others. I will heal and move on. It will be uncomfortable and awkward and nothing will ever take the place of my beloved ones. I can't hang on to them any more, though. After a certain point, it just becomes pitiful, this clinging to thngs that have naturally run their course. It becomes absurd and a little bit cruel to pretend things haven't changed.
It's time to say goodbye.
It's a good thing I'm not very sentimental.
They were rescues, you know. I found them there, cast off, disliked by someone else, smashed between other hopefuls vying for my attention.
They were a perfect fit and we immediately established that comfortable rapport as if we'd always known each other.
They've been with me nearly everywhere for the last five or six years. I can barely imagine a life without them. They've been like a part of our family, even included in our family photos.
They've grown old and it's time for them to go, but I just can't seem to let go. I nurse them along and try to hang on to the last scraps of what we've had together.
It's not the same any more. They can't go as many places as they used to. They are fragile and sensitive. Strangers find them off-putting and look away. So it goes when those we love grow infirm. Strangers may balk, but their beauty is only enhanced to me by their frailties.
I took them out today as I have on so many other days, knowing that this would probably be our last day together. We visited the place where we first met, as we often have over the years, and quietly wandered there together.
My heart broke today and I felt guilty for already making plans for a life without them. "I can't do this," I whispered. "Not with you here."
There will be others. I will heal and move on. It will be uncomfortable and awkward and nothing will ever take the place of my beloved ones. I can't hang on to them any more, though. After a certain point, it just becomes pitiful, this clinging to thngs that have naturally run their course. It becomes absurd and a little bit cruel to pretend things haven't changed.
It's time to say goodbye.
 |
| Farewell to my favorite jeans. You have served me well these many years. From Goodwill ye came and to Goodwill ye shall return. |
*sniffles*
ReplyDeleteIt's a good thing I'm not either..
Oh God, those are perfect jeans. I understand. I had a cardigan like that. You know the one. It now looks like it has been chewed by rats. I could not let go of it until I replaced it with a fancy, sexy cardigan with puffy, silly sleeves. Already my son stuck that one in the dryer. And so it goes.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry for your loss. The bond between man and denim is a sacred one.
ReplyDeleteLOVE this! Oh, how I can relate! but wait til you get a little older - I can't believe i am saying this but then you are going to mourn the passing of the coziest of flannel pj pants! S**T! Jeans are still THE go to garb for anyplace away from home (except for work - jeans are only for Fridays there) but working at home? writing? reading? doing laundry? cozy plaid flannels!
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry for your loss. Mostly because I dig the tights underneath. You'll have to teach me how to do that.
ReplyDeleteIt's easy, really. Just wear your Goodwill jeans until they fall apart and then purchase some sassy tights in the after-Halloween clearance and voila!
DeleteI'm so sorry for your loss. Mostly because I dig the tights underneath. You'll have to teach me how to do that.
ReplyDeleteI have a pair of loyal sweatpants that I am dreading parting with right now... You have given me courage.
ReplyDeleteI think the time to say goodbye was a couple of years ago. You my friend have been wearing a carcass. But it makes for good material.
ReplyDeleteYou sound like my mother.
DeleteI think I ought to take your advise...I keep those old jeans way past their prime!
ReplyDeleteYou are a stronger woman than I am...my cedar chest is full of things no longer wearable that I could not bear to part with.
ReplyDeleteThis also reminds me of a blanket we used to keep folded up at the foot of our bed that had been handed down to Hubby or I from some generation passed. It was in pretty rough shape. One particularly chilly night I asked him to grab an extra blanket and too lazy (or smart) to get out of bed, he reached down to drag that blanket over us. Looking at all the enormous holes, I said, "Honey, that's not a blanket. That's a hole with a little blanket around it."
What? Why give them up? They look so cute with the striped tights. And, have you seen the jeans they sell in stores? Someone would pay big bucks for those custom holes!
ReplyDeleteI'm more concerned with you falling off of that chair. Be careful, please.
ReplyDeleteHa! I fall off of things all the time. Not to worry.
Deleteyour piece reminds me of Bobby Mcgee. sung by joplin who died at 27, the same age as jimmy hendrix and jim morrison. this is dying young and always wrenching, but jeans are like dogs. they die after a full life at the venerable age of l5. think of your pants as dogs. when these are l5, it is time that misery leaves them and a time to say goodbye as sarah brightman sings. there is some italian in this song to give it a timelessness. so your jeans should only be a song away.
ReplyDeleteFunny you should mention that. I sing that line from "Me and Bobby McGee" every time I take my jeans out of the dryer.
DeleteHeath Ledger, Aimee Winehouse and Britney Murphy also all died at age 27.
I used this set of names to set up a j sound... is that alliteration... janis, jimmy and jim..... --i am lying---these were the only names i could come up with at the moment----- i am impressed that you know of others. i wonder why 27. did not that nirvana guy also ie at 27.
ReplyDelete