I have just completed my fall change-over. My summer T-shirts and my winter sweaters have switched places.
I have more sweaters than I can possibly wear. Yet each one has a story. They remind me of memorable occasions when I wore them. Many are turtlenecks—a blessing for my aging neck. Too many of them are gray. One is a chic short-sleeved blue light-weight wool, which means I can wear it in summer or winter, except I always forget I have it.
Peter had a drawer-full of sweaters, some dating from the Stone Age. Our boys and our grandsons took all but a few. Those few are now in my sweater collection.
They will keep me close to Peter.