Last winter, we wandered into a thrift shop, as we sometimes like to do. The boys, of course, head first in the direction of toys. They dig through those and usually come away with at least one new treasure to toss into the pile at home. But it’s well worth it if it buys even a moment of happiness for 25 cents.
I don’t usually scour for clothes in thrift stores, or really anywhere for that matter. I’d much rather peruse housewares or kids stuff. This day, however, as were almost through checkout, a chunky knit shawl-style sweater caught my eye.
It was soft. Unbelievably soft and comfortable and appeared much more expensive than the $3.00 I bought it for. My luck usually isn’t that good. Even the woman working the register remarked on my glorious find. “We just put that out”, she confessed with a hint of envy. Right place, right time, maybe I should have purchased a lottery ticket after.
I wore that super soft, comfortable sweater layered with pride until the warm weather of spring began to rear it’s rainy head, when it was sadly banished to the back of my closet. Every now and then, I’d gaze at it longingly while vulnerable in the bare sleeves of warmer months’ tops.
Then, this week, with a biting chill once again in the air, I was at last able to retrieve my much missed sweater from the dark. I slipped it on and instantly felt warm again; home, protected, cozy.
I’ve never been a summer girl. You can take your blazing sun, I’d much rather have the soft comfort of being bundled up in the cold. Welcome, December.