Lavender, White Pants and

Adios to the white pants!

Just a year ago I said goodbye to the home I had shared with loved ones for most of my lifetime

I said a sad adieu to my posse

I bade farewell to my favorite restaurants, cherished beauty spa and my internist and contact lens practitioner

I managed that, admittedly not with aplomb, butI did manage it. Now twelve months later, I wonder why I find saying not goodbye, but so long for a while, to my wardrobe of white pants so difficult.

Possibly, because I no longer look with gleeful anticipation into the dark months of winter and feel completely confident spring will come again

Or maybe because each season brings a loss, not merely of those we cherish, but relationships that don’t endure despite our nightly novenas.

Or is it because, and I am reluctant to admit this truth, we are fearful of the road ahead?

And when did this honesty emerge? Was it due to the calendar marking another decade or another step closer to life's final adventure?

Or was it when we heard of a friend's exodus from a familiar path we had shared?

I gaze with reluctance at the crisp white pants lined up like tin soldiers on my bed, innocently unaware of the emotions they have evoked.

I look across the room at the equal lineup of their gray, black and beige counterparts waiting to be welcomed into my closet and being subtly rejected.

It hardly matters anymore in this ever revolving world of fashion and decorum whether or not I wear white pants throughout the Christmas festivities. Only to me, a slave to convention or perhaps more honestly, to observing my Mother's edicts. It was mandatory the day after Labor Day while Mom watched, that my sister Ellen, and I purged all memories of summer from our shared wardrobe and refilled the small closet with the darker hues of the oncoming fall and winter.

Emerging September first from the household on to 58th Street wearing any remnants of yesterday’s August sunshine, would have been an absolute violation of the neighborhood's fashion sensibilities. Of course, Mom along with all her friends, would be totally aghast now if they stood on those same streets and viewed any of today's current styles,

However, while old habits do die hard, sometimes it is healthy to combine them with changing emotions.. Thus I do today, as the parade of white cotton soldiers is packed carefully into plastic bags along with a fervent hope for their reemergence in another season of life. Also, tucked along with the lavender tissue paper are the memories of the joys of Summer 2017 (a month shared with my California family, weekly visits from my amazing Grandson, Will, and the countless blessings of cherished and frequent Facetime visits with friends and family.) These memories may not be visible, but like the fragrance of the lavender, they will endure until another spring.