The One I Reach For

There is a habit in this I did not start.

I have an old army-green jacket I have worn for years.

There are others in the closet. Warmer ones. Newer ones. Still, when the weather changes, this is usually the one I reach for.

The color has followed me for a long time.

My father wore it too.

I don't remember ever deciding that it would become mine. I only know that it kept appearing. A jacket. A sweater. A shirt. Different shades of the same green.

For years, I didn't think much about it. It was simply a color I liked.

After I lost my father, that changed.

The jacket has softened with wear. The cuffs have begun to show it. I know how it feels before I put it on, how it sits across my shoulders, where my hands will go when I walk.

Anyone else would see an old jacket.

As for me, I see him.

In keeping,
S. Marie
C U M I C H E