A Red Sweater With A

“Good wear”was a common term in our household during my early years.

And it was not just in our family. Everyone I knew had an item that fell into that category. Coats, dresses, even shoes to be worn for Church or holidays.

Any item labeled “good wear” had longevity. When you outgrew them, they were altered, lengthened and made wearable. When that became an impossibility, they lived forever either in another family’s closet or on your younger sister’s back. If you had more than one sister, they survived even longer.

One item in particular I remember was a handmade red cardigan. I wore it briefly (it couldn’t be altered); then my younger sister intherited it, and ultimately, it arrived in our youngest sister’s closet.

Eventually it arrived in Massapequa tissue wrapped in a box for Diane, my daughter. She, having no sisters, then sent it to Deborah, my niece, who eventually gave it to her younger sister, Tracy.

I must remember to ask if any of their three daughters still own the treasured red sweater.

Time passed quickly and I forgot about ”good wear,” believing it a phrase of the past, until today.

As spring finally emerged, I opened my closet with anticipation and to my surprise, or I should say, dismay, discovered many items of “good wear.”

Unfortunately, several look as if they emerged from my Mother’s trousseau.

No, I am not going to (and we discussed this before) reveal my age, but to be totally honest, there aren’t many opportunities in life today to bring out the “good wear.”

And as long as I am being realistic, the “good wear” doesn’t quite look so good anymore.

I realized that yesterday as I caught my unexpected reflection in a full length mirror.

The shapeless dress I was wearing sagged in all the wrong spots, and embraced my body in others where it didn’t belong.

Of course, it was one of the “good wear” items, hidden and saved for special occasions. Yesterday fell into that category, but it quickly became obvious I could have used a personal dresser.

Perhaps that’s the lesson. There are no “good wear;” occasions. Every day falls into that category, and the joy of life is found only in each and every moment we live.

I have learned another lesson, and this one my closet taught me. “Carpe Diem.”