I wonder who will wear it when I’m done with it someday.
The Cowichan Sweater was a huge, heavy, woolen beast, a garment with presence, something I’d always wanted but couldn’t have afforded. I plucked it off the rack of new donations being wheeled into the Salvation Army store, and we bonded immediately. A garment with history, too, it turned out.
On the reverse side of the lining was a tag identifying it as belonging to Clifford Stackhouse. A quick search found Clifford’s obituary; a frail, gaunt great-grandfather with an engaging grin and a long list of life adventures and loving family members. Which ones had bought this sweater to keep Clifford’s aging bones warm? The discovery made me love the sweater even more.
[The Sweater] reminds me that we are transitory; it feels like a bequest, and I wonder who will wear it when I’m done with it someday. It’s a voyager from a time when clothing was precious and sturdy and not disposable.
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