A girlfriend of mine recently told me a story about her boyfriend's coat pocket. That's right- his coat pocket. He was called in for a last minute interview he couldn't refuse, and she was consequently on the recieving end of a panic stricken phone call. His suit was,
of course, inconveniently crumpled into a mess in the corner of the laundry room- unworn since a good friends wedding weeks before. As she rushed to desperately find the suit and throw in it the dryer- the only strategy she could think of to get the thing acceptable for an interview in just a couple of hours, the eclectic aroma of booze and cigarettes came over her. Not the bad smell that brings the hangover surging right back into your body- that good, faint smell- the one that reminds you of what a perfect time you had celebrating the marriage of two of your very best friends.
She hasily doused the jacket in Febreeze and tossed it in the dryer, while viligantly but cautiously ironing his "dry clean only" pants. But before she did, she took a rapid second to empty his coat pockets, and this is what she found.
The bulletin from the Easter service at her church. It was the very first time he'd gone to church with her and her family- a moment she won't likely forget, because, for her, it was a massive stride in their relationship.
A card from her co-workers that was attached to flowers sent to her grandfather's funeral, just months before. It was one of the first tragedies they had suffered through together- one of the first times she had really needed to lean on his strength- and he had really been the rock she'd needed.
A program and matchbook from the wedding of a best friend- the wedding that contributed to the demise of the suit. She was a bridesmaid and a truly loving friend- proud to stand at her sister's side on that day- and proud to have her soul mate there with her. It had been one of her favorite memories they'd shared together.
She'd worked as hard as she could to get that suit fit to be seen. And while she may not have succeeded and he had to wear his second choice- or maybe even no coat at all- I honestly don't remember, that simple task made her stop, take a moment to inhale that eclectic aroma. To draw in all those memories- good and bittersweet. And it was just that- a moment- all from a coat pocket.
So go home, and pull out a winter coat or a suit you seldom wear on the odd occasion. Empty out those pockets and sift through the memories. I recently found, in one of my winter coats, a bar napkin from college I used to ask my now husband to marry me. They might be silly or fun. They may bring tears. But chances are, they'll mean something. And you'll be glad you dug deep down in that pocket. And if you find anything worth sharing, email it to me at
katie.gulas@gmail.com. It should be quite the experiment.
