Our Country

Coats and Dogs

Now that people are bundled up for winter (at least where I live), I’m having trouble recognizing acquaintances on the street.  Cambridge is a city, but it is like a small town, and I often run into acquaintances when I am out walking.  If they are wearing hats and masks, I usually can’t tell who’s who.  Unless they have a recognizable stride.  Or I recognize their coats. 

There are at least two people in our building whose coats give them away.  One coat is a wonderful burnt orange color.  Another woman had an orange jacket, but she seems to have a new blue one that threw me off one day.  For a while, I knew people by their masks, but as the pandemic has gone on, most people now have a wardrobe of masks.

One helpful clue is their dog. When I can’t recognize the adult holding the leash, I often am saved by the dog.

There is one unmissable woman that I often see.  Her coat is a royal shade of purple.  It is exactly the same color as her walker.  Unfortunately, I have no idea who she is.  But one day I’m going to introduce myself to her. 

By the way, I’m the (relatively) tall woman with an odd gait, and silver hair that badly needs cutting.


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