I have a treasure in my office. It hangs on the back of my chair for whenever I need it–which is most days, because my office is in the basement and it’s freezing down here!
It’s miles too big for me, but that doesn’t matter.
It’s also showing its age a little bit (it has all kinds of those little balls of fuzz and fluff attached to it) because I’ve had it for almost 23 years. but that doesn’t matter either.
What matters is its story. Because it has one.
You see, my mom made this sweater for my dad when he was diagnosed with cancer. It was her last Christmas gift to him, because he died the following June, three days after my youngest daughter was born. As I was the only sibling in the city, it fell to me to help mom clean out his things in the following months. Most of his clothes went to goodwill, but she kept a couple of his shirts, and I got to keep the sweater.
Twelve years later, Mom died, too.
The sweater survives to this day. Woven through with Mom’s love for Dad, and with the memory of him wearing it etched in my mind, it feels like a warm, comforting hug from both of them when I put it on. And it’s now been a part of almost every story I’ve written.
I suspect it will adorn my office chair…and me…for the rest of my life.