Yesterday in the parking lot at the paper I looked down at my lumberjack-Kurt-Cobain-flannel shirt and saw the absence of a paperclip. It bothered me all day. I felt almost naked.
I put the large paperclip on the hole- (not button-) side of my shirt after English class one day, taking it from my English teacher's desk, slipping it on and just never removing it.
That was twelve years ago.
I left it on through countless washes and days wearing the shirt. It wore down to a dull tin tone over time. I played with it when I was bored or nervous, and refused to lend the shirt for Halloween three years ago because I was worried it would fall off or get lost.
When I went to college, it symbolized what I'd learned in high school; when my English teacher died, it symbolized my memory of him.
I'm not devastated over the loss of a paper clip, but it was something, and my shirt feels heavier without it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment