A Christmas Story

 

It was my favorite sweater.

It was long, black and it had buttons up the front. It had a belt I could tie around my waist. I could wear it with a t-shirt, and it was thin enough to not make me sweaty. In the winter on really cold nights, I would wear it to bed to stay warm.

It is embarrassing to reveal how old that sweater was. I think it was nearly 20 years old. I know my mom bought it for me and she sure got her money's worth on that one. A few years ago, I noticed it was a little too worn to wear outside the house. It had a few holes around the collar but nothing that prevented me from still wearing it. I lost the black belt that went with it but that was ok. Since I wasn't wearing it out, I used other belts I could find.

I don't know what I was thinking on Thanksgiving, when I wore that sweater over to my parents' house. I had been wearing a short-sleeved blouse and since it was warm that day, I only needed something light just in case. I immediately took the sweater off when I got to my parents' because it felt like a sauna since the turkey and sides were cooking in the oven. I put my sweater on the back of a chair.

Later that evening, when the oven was off and the indoor temperature finally reached a comfortable degree, I put my sweater back on. I did not know I had a large run going down the back. It was so long it extended past the collar and was clearly visible. My dad noticed it right away and quickly pointed it out.

I assured him I had other clothing that did not have holes. I said I just grabbed the sweater quickly when I was on my way out the door and I don't normally wear it out of the house. I thought the case on that subject was closed.

Once the house filled up with guests for dessert, again the temperature warmed up and I removed the holey sweater. Again, I put in on the back of a chair. My dad appeared and said, "I'm just going to take this sweater and put it on my bed in case someone wants to sit here."

I thought that was odd since there was no room for anyone to sit in that particular chair. It was part of the small dessert table and since there were so many desserts to choose from, the table was filled. A few minutes later, my sister and I noticed dad in his room inspecting my sweater. He was really giving it a thorough review and we weren't really sure why. I thought he might be interested in getting out the thread and needle.

The very next day, I called my parents to thank them for hosting Thanksgiving and I asked them how their day was. I expected them to have taken it easy since they had to be exhausted from the day before, but my dad said he just got home. He had been out all day. I asked him where he had to go, and he brushed it off and said he had some errands to run. My dad never goes out on Black Friday so I thought this was strange.  He sounded tired, so I wasn't going to keep him on the phone.

As we were saying our goodbyes, he said, "Make sure you check your side porch."

I went to the porch and there was a wrapped rectangular box leaning against the wall. There was a card attached to the box which looked ready to burst, like something bulky was hidden inside.

My dad wrote in the card, "Well, I think Santa's getting a bit senile. I thought it was Christmas Eve." Inside the box was a new black sweater. It was different from the one I had, but it was long and had buttons going down the front. My dad assured me, in the card, I could take it back if I didn't like it. He had asked for the advice of fellow shoppers to ensure his purchase would be ok. He had called my daughter to get her opinion as well.

 

I didn't take the sweater back. It seems like even after almost 50 years, my parents can't stop taking care of me. Maybe this sweater will last as long as the other one did.

*My blog is featured in The Valley Mirror Newspaper each week in the On My Mind column. The weekly publication covers the Steel Valley and Woodland Hills communities.