Saturday, January 24, 2015

"The Coatmakers."


I once had
a coat that I loved
more than anything else
I owned.

It was perfect
in every way.

And so I wore it
every day of every winter
for years.

My other coat
languished in the closet,
but my heart was taken.

As I noticed it fraying
at the wrists and elbows,
it pained my little heart.

I hadn't looked hard,
but I knew
there was no coat like it
in this world.

This coat
was my only exception.
.
.
.
When last winter ended,
I decided I had to let it go.

Summer came and went,
and then fall came.

One day,
we were shopping,
and I saw a coat.

I fell in love with it
instantly.

I tried it on right there.
It was perfect in every way--
too expensive,
and in a store
whose quality I questioned.

But it was perfect.
I bought it.
And I have worn it
every day.
.
.
.
Yesterday,
call me crazy,
but I took my old coat
out of the closet
and put it on.

It was the strangest feeling.

I loved this coat?
So much
that I thought
I could never love
another coat
ever again?

It suddenly seemed
so uninspired.

It was still
a nice coat,
to be sure.

And it still felt natural
to love it.

But the me that loved it
isn't the same me
that wakes up every morning
and goes to sleep every night.

That me is gone.

Now I can't decide
whether it's sad
or surprisingly freeing
to realize
that I will someday
love another coat
more than I love
the one I have now.

(This is a metaphor.)

This isn't
an actual picture
of either of the coats.

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