Unfashionably Comfortable

A dear friend pointed out to me on Easter Sunday last month that she was wearing a skirt that had been my mom's and a sweater that had belonged to a mutual friend. Both of these women are now deceased, so my friend's decision to wear articles of their clothing that day was a particularly special way to remember and honor them. At about the same time, the weather had finally warmed up enough that I could store my winter bathrobe in the back of the closet and bring out my lightweight version. My warmer-months robe is lightweight pink fleece, but it has seen better days. It's pilling a bit, has a little stain on it and features a hem that could use repair yet again, but I simply can't part with that robe, for it had been my late mother's. When I wear that robe, I can see Mom wearing it and I feel as if I'm closer to her. As with many facets of my personality, I must take after Mom when it comes to finding comfort in another loved one's clothing. I recall my mom keeping my dad's bathrobe after he passed away, for she, too, drew comfort from wearing it. It took her several years to part with that robe. While I am not one to surround myself with many mementos or articles of clothing, there are certain things I treasure. Anyone else would look at my rather tired, pilled, stained robe and wonder why I don't simply discard it and replace it with something bright and new. But, that faded pink, lightweight fleece robe, complete with stain, pills and saggy hem, has nothing to do with fashion and everything to do with finding comfort in something that my lovely mom had touched, had worn and in which she, too, had found comfort. Someday, I'll part with Mom's robe, but for now, pills, stain, loose hem and all, I wouldn't trade it for anything.