It’s old. It’s faded. Some of the edges are frayed. There’s a tear in the cuff that can’t be repaired. It’s definitely seen better days.

This jacket has been with me for the better part of 25 years.

There’s been a few times I’ve had it in my “toss” pile, only to  change my mind and pull it back out.  So, I ask myself, what is it about this jacket that I keep running back to like an old friend? What is it about this unpretentious article of clothing that I can’t seem to let go of?

Simple.

It’s history.

It’s the history that is held inside the body of this jacket.

In the years since I have owned this piece of clothing (or, does it own me), this jacket has kept my body warm and my soul comforted. It’s the comfort of chicken soup and the warmth of hot chocolate.  This friend of mine has kept me warm at  UT football games, hayrides, and  pumpkin carvings. Its sleeves have wiped noses, its hood has kept the rain off. It has served as an impromptu pillow and a blanket for little ones. It has accompanied me on walks, endless farmer’s markets,and soccer games.  It has been with me on some of my best days, and some of my worst days. On some of my darkest days, it has caught tears that couldn’t be held back.

Just look at this picture. That jacket is keeping my daughter warm on a chilly Saturday morning in 1994. That’s Shane on her lap (he’s 30 now). 

Fast forward to October 2012 (18 years later), that’s Shane wearing that very same jacket. He and Brandon supported me by participating in the Out of the Darkness community walk for Suicide Prevention. 

 I asked my daughter Robin to put on the jacket so I would have a picture of her wearing it too. 🙂

And just 2 years ago, I brazenly got it back out of the toss pile  and wore it while running errands on yet another chilly East Tennessee Saturday morning.

And then, just this spring, here “we” are with Charlie on a video shoot in Birmingham, AL.  This old jacket and her ample pockets came in handy storing camera batteries, filters, lens caps, and a handful of C47’s (also known as clothespins).

So, if I could turn back the hands of time would I make her new again?

No, not really. Because, like its owner, this beloved jacket of mine has worked hard for those worn edges, she has earned the frays and the imperfections that make her what  she is today.

And what happens to this little sweetheart when I’m no longer around to need her? Well, Ms. Ames, she’s yours – as you wish.