Time For Old Friends

Like inverted frozen popsicles they hang in my closet, side by side.

Each a reminder their day is approaching. Winter has ended, summer is not far away.

Yet I resist allowing them re-entry into my world; fearful perhaps it is too soon. Their black counterparts may still be needed in the event of an unexpected April gale or Lord forbid, a sudden snow shower.

Yet I know it is time.

Perhaps there is another reason I resist. Because each item brings another memory. My garments are not new. We have lived together for many a day, and I would like to believe I have weathered life’s storms as well as the white pants and linen tunics.

They have inhabited several closets, and visited more than one washing machine during the past ten years.

Before then, their longevity wasn’t quite as lengthy. I found them easier to replace without undue concern or sentimentality. However, their life span increased dramatically when another’s ended softly one September morning.

When my life changed, their length of durability become far more obvious.

They have been packed in tissue paper and traveled across country to San Diego several times. Each time emerging in good shape ready for a quick blow dry and entry into a new closet.

Occasionally, they went by bus for shorter visits and family events. That’s when they arrived wrinkled and disheveled like their owner. But both after a quick nap, me in my bed, they in another closet, survived our trip.

Ah yes, my white pants and I have been together a long time. And I hope they have weathered this winter of all winters better than I. Most likely, they will emerge with fewer wrinkles than their owner.

Tomorrow will tell when I shake them out once again, try them on and welcome them back into my life.