My favorite shirt is made of an ultra-thin cotton weave, is light and soft, and long sleeved. Now it has more holes than I can count. Or mend. Believe me, I’ve tried.
I would buy a new one if I could, but of course I can’t— not yet anyway.
Someday I will replace my favorite shirt.
But right now, it still reigns.
This shirt was one of the first items I purchased after my divorce, after I lost over 30 pounds in the process, as well as losing most of everything I owned. When it was all said and done, I didn’t fit into what was left of my life, including the clothing.
So I bought a few things for the new me, including two staples:
My favorite shirt.
My favorite pair of jeans.
Both are now tattered and torn. But both are all mine, all me and alright just as they are.
They have been to Mexico with me, to the west coast, east coast, north, south and everything in between. They have been to the beach and to the mountains, through sand and through snow, on boats and buses.
Today my favorite shirt went bowling with two of my favorite friends: Laura and Lisa.
Someday I will buy a new favorite shirt, I’m sure, but it’s hard to imagine getting rid of my wonderful old favorite shirt.
Because just like my favorite girlfriends, my favorite shirt has seen me through some of the hardest and most wonderful years of my life — and still fits just right. Tatters and all.