Thursday, December 12, 2013

Wholly Holey Holy

It’s time and well past time to retire my favorite blue jeans, wholly holey holy as they are.  It’s not easy, this letting go, silly as it sounds, of some denim bits that have shrugged themselves around me as I stride though these moments of a life.

Today I will laugh with the ladies at the annual Christmas lunch, with a bittersweet remembering of Gloria, now gone from us, laughing herself silly over her bragging rights to having her  minister visit wearing her wholly holey holy jeans.

When I retire these jeans to the trash bin, I’ll recall other jeans, similar in texture, my mother tried to sneak and throw away when I was a teen, only to have me retrieve them and show up gleefully wearing them the next day to her long-suffering sighs.

Like a lot of things in life, it takes time to get the perfect jeans – the ones that just collapse onto your body, softened by our time together, worn in just the right ways for comfort, getting to the place where we just fit together.

Like love, being past their sell-by date is of no matter.

Like laughter, they invite unbidden a certain joy merely by their presence.

Is it silly for a grown woman to mourn the passing of an article of clothing?  Most likely.

But if you’ve ever had your own wholly holey holy jeans, you’ll understand.


  1. It scares me a little to think of what will take their place...haha

  2. Totally understand. I too remember those jeans!

    1. I feel like they should have their own museum :-)