Layered

Sitting here typing, I just realized how many layers I have on my body.

I have a bluish, short sleeve tee shirt on the bottom.

On top of that I have a collared shirt, white with pale blue stripes.

Over that, I have a navy blue, long sleeved tee shirt.

Then a salmon colored Block Island sweat shirt which is the fourth layer.

And finally one of the five blue sweaters I own (being a sucker for blue anything...) which is very old and has holes everywhere and frayed cuffs and which Bern told me I should throw away when she looked at it today. But I won't because I love it and love it because of the holes and frayed cuffs because we've been through the wars together, this sweater and me.

Five layers in all. And when I go out I either wear a thigh length down coat that is so warm, so very warm but the right side pocket is almost torn off or a West Virginia University waist length jacket which a guy from the Soup Kitchen obviously stole from the Burlington Coat Factory but told me he bought it for me and I gave him $15 for it, gladly, stolen or not because he remembered I was from West Virginia and I found that precious.

Let the winds howl and the temperature drop, I'll be warm because I'll have 5 layers and a coat with a torn pocket or a jacket that tells people where I'm from.

Often, in stores, people mention my West Virginia jacket. I get to talk to a lot of people that way. No one, by the way, asks me about my down coat with the torn pocket. Perhaps torn pockets are not conducive to conversation.....I'm not sure.....