An old friend is still here.
There once was a very special gift, an Alpaca shawl which my son Tai brought back from his college trip to Peru, probably in 1999 or so. So soft. And then gone.
I moved to my last apartment 11 years ago. I gave away the dresser in which I kept the shawl in the bottom drawer. The new bedroom was too small for it.
I admit to having friends help me pack. But I was pretty sure the shawl had just gone with the dresser to Habitat Restore. I called, and they said they couldn't find it.
I felt so bereft. It had been what I wore to my son Russ' wedding in 2000. I would see photos of me wearing it, and wish I hadn't been so stupid to lose it when the furniture people took the dresser.
I am not very attached to clothes. I sure don't dress to impress, preferring comfort over style. I just gave away half of the clothes I currently owned to thrift stores, without a tear.
But the sentimentality of that shawl was higher because of its loss.
I've lost so much in life. My parents are gone, as is my only sister. Both of my dearest high school friends have died in the last 10 years. I lost my marriage, mainly because I wasn't wise enough to stick it out. Then I lost my first two sons when they moved back with their father after the divorce...when he'd remarried and had been treating them without any discipline for those 7 years of our living in different cities...he was Santa and took them to Disney World...and so they chose to live the "fairytale" life he promised. I didn't stand up enough to fight for them to stay with me. Love meant letting them do what they wanted, I thought.
Then I lost the man I loved who was the father of my youngest son. He didn't choose to be a parent, though he sure was there for the first part. My youngest son has been raised by the communities in which I lived, as well as my best efforts.
So I maybe closed down to more loss. Just keep moving forward. But I feel somewhere deep that there's a lot missing in my life. Build rich friendships, and pay attention to those I love. And survive.
And then I started pulling everything out of the boxes which had never been unpacked in the last apartment - 11 years and I probably didn't need those books or pictures. But at the bottom of one, wrapped still in its dry cleaning bag, was my Alpaca Peruvian shawl.
I immediately wrapped it around me. Throat definitely tightening as if I could cry...but no. I wore it a bit, while the air conditioner fought against the 95 degrees outside. It was kind of itchy...like wool can be on dry skin. So I hung it over a handle, and took its picture, and started writing about it here.
It's just a piece of fabric. But it is special to this person. Many years...many where it just sat in the bottom of a box. Now to be worn again whenever the summertime is over.
I think what I feel now is joy.
