Week 5
Here we are. The end of each week is accompanied by a depressed victory.
We made it-again.
We have to do it-again.
Will this ever end?
I miss things.
I miss baseball. And my gym. My friends in the flesh. Making plans to visit my family. I (really) miss watching my kids’ games. I miss going to the movies. I miss being alone in the house, eating my morning veggie bowls and watching 20 minutes of trashy television before I get on with my day. I miss writing stuff in my calendar that doesn’t start with ‘zoom.’ I miss carefree trips to Target. I miss my clothes.
Which brings me to something else.
I’m really sorry I ever said I hated all my clothes. That I would repeatedly stand with my closet open, cursing every last article, sure that I had absolutely nothing to wear. Ever.
I mean, I didn’t know, Clothes. I didn’t know how long we would be apart from one another. I didn’t know, Cute Jacket I Bought Right Before Pandemic, that we didn’t even stand a chance to bond. I didn’t know, Perfect Shade of Army Green Sweater, that I let my one opportunity to show you off slip by and months will pass before I won’t sweat to death while wearing you. To you, Perfect Leopard Print Maxi, I await with baited breath for causal summer days made better with you and a Perfect Hat. To my Cowboy Boots…I want you to know that we can still make it work. I promise, Boots, that when this is over, you, me and Shirt Dress will go wine tasting and we will be so happy. Black Eyelet Top? My God we are going to have the best reunion. Imagine us together with those leopard wedges!? Whaaatttt!!! I mean even you, Random Button Sweater That I’m Not Sure Is Cute or Ugly…I would like a chance to discover that together. These are the images we must hold onto, Clothes. We must remember the good times and look forward to coordinating once again.
I can’t talk about my earrings. It’s too painful.
Which brings me to something else.
I wear a little mascara most days. Because I want to. And I slip on my jeans instead of leggings after a shower. And I wore a dress to Trader Joes because it was warm outside and it felt lovely. And the other day, Anthropologie was fully taunting me with their shiny 50% Off Dresses emails and I took that clickbait and I bought myself a new, gorgeous maxi dress that I fully intend to wear while cooking chicken and doing laundry. This is risky, I know, because ladies-we are all familiar with the pure witchcraft that is an Anthro dressing room, what with that lighting and those magic mirrors and I am never one to order clothes online which I know makes me some kind of freak, but I have the hips and the butt and one size here and another size there….just let me try it on first please. But the pure thrill I felt at the idea of receiving something fun in the mail that I can wear and feel pretty in was too much for me to bear. I broke and I bought it and I hope my mirror is as magic as those in-store.
These little things…a dab of mascara, jeans instead of leggings….a new dress that could look awful on me….they boost my mood just the tiniest bit. A closet full of clothes I once cursed and now look upon longingly is not really important, I know. It’s not anything that actually matters in times of such strife and hardship and sacrifice. But standing in front of my closet, staring at all those things I was so sure I hated…well….it evokes gratitude. To have so much. Not the clothes but the times spent in them. The times spent packing to visit family; to go grab a drink with girlfriends; head to Dodger games with my kids; go on a date to the movies; to settle in comfortably for a marathon day of the kids’ games. All these outings and experiences we took for granted because we just didn’t know. How could we? What I see now when I stand in front of my open closet is life. I remember all the cherished memories, I feel the stillness of time that is now, and I look forward to all the life we have yet to experience when this, too, does pass.
I’ll be the one in the maxi dress, big hoops adorning my ears and the perfect hat upon my head.
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