You were my favorite work jacket: soft, warm, and able to take the abuse of my job. I counted on your presence to keep me warm on those cold days during firewood season. You comforted me, you kept me somewhat dry, you kept me warm.
I didn't want to let you go. But that drunk dude came in right before closing time, and his sob story was epic. I was afraid he wouldn't go away, and I'd be trapped there with him trying to talk me into saving him from his self-induced dilemma. It was cold, and he was on foot, heading the opposite direction of our home (not that I'd have let him in the truck with me if we WERE heading the same direction).
My 12 step recovery has taught me that random acts of kindness must be part of my life, because I can only keep my serenity by giving away the good that was so freely given to me. So I gave you to that poor drunk dude, because he was only wearing a thin shirt and it was COLD.
I knew as I unzipped you that I would never see you again. I'm sorry I let you go; I hope you are keeping someone else as warm as you once kept me.
I've known many garments in my day. Some I should never have met; others were dear friends. These are my tributes to the ones I had to let go.