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robe

I own a new bathrobe.

It’s Turkish white cotton and it replaces one that I have worn since 2007. When my mother died, I brought her bathrobe home with me and, for a decade, it served as the hug she could no longer deliver. It wasn’t expensive – its value was in its sentiment. Big and fluffy, it tumbled through the washer and dryer thousands of times until loose threads began to appear and, like my mother, it perished.

Finally, I was ready to let it go. Parting with an item (like a robe) may simply be a matter of accepting the end of certain relationships and understanding how the physical objects around us have served as their emotional accomplices.

I still miss my mother, of course, but I think she would be pleased to see me wrapped in a new bathrobe – especially one that looks a lot like hers.

 

 

Renee Garrison is the award-winning author of The Anchor Clankers.