Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Day 21: Fleece. A Love Story.

Fess up: you have something in your wardrobe that has overstayed it's welcome. Whether or not you wear it often (or even in public) we all have it: that well-worn-has-seen-better-days-you-should-stop-wearing-it piece of clothing.

For me, that article of clothing is my pink fleece.

And not just ONE pink fleece, but two! (It's was so nice, I bought it twice!)

If fleece could talk, I would have them write my novel, as they have been part of our lives for more than a decade.

That's right. These fleece have been around longer than Mr. KK and I have been married.

They first came into my life when I lived with my roommates in Boston. I bought them together, to get me through the cold winter nights. We were living in a drafty, old 5-bedroom house. My bedroom was at the back of the house, where the heat refused to climb. One night, as an experiment, I put out a thermometer in my room. In the morning, it registered 57 degrees. Hence, the fleece.

My pink fleece kept me warm when I lived alone for the very first time in Boston, before Mr. KK moved in with me.

When we lived in our little row house in South Boston, I wore my fleece religiously every day after my surgery, while I was convalescing and watching Ellen with my mother.  

Then we moved back to Connecticut, got new jobs, got married and bought a house - all in a 3-month time span. The house was an old colonial, and I took pleasure in painting each and every room in my fleece. To this day, my fleece is has drops of the slate gray of our upstairs bathroom and avocado green of our kitchen.

When we bought and renovated our current house - which I fondly refer to as the house we will die in because I will never move again - I once again donned my fleece each and every winter. It would get covered in Vito's hair, since he insisted he lay all over me.

During the winter months of my maternity leave, I pulled my fleece on every morning when I'd go and wake Little Mister up for his morning bottle. He would finish eating and then snuggle into my fleece and take a little nap.

Mr. KK makes fun of my fleece. The are stretched out, nubby, no longer a pretty blush pink, caked with paint dots. I like to call them "well loved".

And even though I just bought some new fleece tops, I'm not ready to say good-bye. They will stay in the rotation until they no longer keep me - and my memories - warm.

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