The comfort of the familiar. When I pulled it out of a box the other day it was like finding a long lost friend. It may as well be a friend with how many things we have been through together. I bought it for a hoe-down, we danced reels, jigs, and squares together that night. I remember finding hay in the pocket when I went to wash it later that week. We have spent long hours at the shore, building sandcastles, roasting weiners, and baking clams. There have been fireworks watched, gardens weeded, kisses given, books read with little ones cuddled close by, picnics eaten, and salsa made while buttoned into it's cheery plaid. We have traveled to the grocery store and to South Korea. To Washington, California, Oregon, Idaho, Texas, Oklahoma, and Montana by plane, train, motorcycle and automobile, in suitcases and on my back. I'm sure it has absorbed years of tears as well as years of laughter. If only it could tell the stories it knows.
I'm giddy to be slipping it on today and doing more of life, together.
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