Every person has one, I
bet, except for those who live in the tropics and don’t wear much of anything.
You know the sweater I mean. It’s the one with fuzz balls and the thin elbows.
It may be the one with a couple of moth holes. It’s the one you reach for when
the house feels chilly or you have to run outside to the mailbox on a winter’s
afternoon. It doesn’t scratch and you don’t have to fold it nicely when you
take it off. This sweater has gone many miles with you and you love it.
I clearly remember the day
my old sweater and I got together. I was in a department store looking for a
career suit and was on my way to the dressing room to try one on when I passed
by a 50% off rack. My eye fell on this long, grey, size M, wool cardigan with
pockets but no buttons. Without a moment’s consideration I grabbed it. It was
love at first sight.
The sweater often went to
work with me and became a work wardrobe mainstay. When I retired, my sweater
retired with me and made a smooth transition to being a country-life sweater.
When the sweater began to
look ratty I started looking for its replacement. Every similar cardigan I
could find was flawed: big buttons, not wool, too dressy, too flashy, a collar,
and often no pockets!
Now I’ve quit looking. No
more the roving eye for me. I only have eyes for my old sweater. It’s at least
25 years old. We’re growing old together. I may even want to be buried in it.
Copyright
2014 by Shirley Domer
