On Thursday, I pulled my chocolate brown wool slacks and brown and white tweed jacket from the depths of my closet. This was my go-to work outfit on the coldest-of-the cold days for years, and it’s been a losing candidate for the give-away bag every spring.
I wanted to look sharp for my Thursday session with the high school juniors I was helping with their applications for summer enrichment programs. And to be warm.
At breakfast, Peter didn’t comment about what I was wearing. He almost never does, I think because he approves of my taste. I was trying to remember how long I have had that jacket. Forever, I thought. I interrupted Peter’s paper reading to say, “I think the jacket I am wearing is the oldest thing I never got rid of.”
We looked at each other. I waited for his response. But I was the one who said what we both were thinking “except for…”