Worn & Torn

October 28, 2014 § Leave a comment

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I never had a sister to trade clothes with. I never sought out hand-me-downs or hand-me-ups from my brothers. However, sometimes when my mom would get rid of old clothes, especially when I was away from home, living states apart, I would cling to her old, cosy clothes.

Like this grey sweater. It already had some little holes, probably a reason she was getting rid of it, and I loved it. I accidentally shrunk it in the wash, but then I still loved it more. It became like an old stuffed bear or blanket. The more disheveled this sweater has become, the more I want to put it on and feel the tight squeeze of my mom.

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Sometimes I daydream about these old clothes. I wonder if I went to with my mom to the Gap when she bought this. I wonder if I was trailing along, playing under the racks of collared shirts and khaki pants with my younger brother. Maybe I had brought along a friend and we were fawning over the fancy things we might one day wear.

I think about my clothes a lot. I think about the emotional power they have over me. I consider if this makes me crazier. Either way, I love to pull this shrunken number over a dress and rub the softness of it. I feel for those little tears in the sleeve and think about my mother.

 

 

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