B ack when I had a life, May was a time of expectancy. Not that substitute teaching can be considered a life, but once May arrived, I knew that it would not be long before the children in my charge, both big and small, would be released into summer. Their unappreciated, abused sub would follow and be free to plan a trip to an exotic place or, at least, to a warm one.
Today, May is still a time of expectancy, but one of preparation. Still feeling the weight of the COVID-19 pandemic safety measures were put in place for apprehensive clients to return to work. The aftermath of a violent storm this week prompted better preparations for the next power outage, and today plummeting temperatures into the 30s this evening puts well-loved flowers at risk. This means my “babies” will need blankets so that their blooms will live and prosper.
Walking into my closet, I thought this would be an easy task. Several old T-shirts hung askew on wire hangers and with scissors in hand, I was prepared to slice up 4 or 5 of these. I pulled out the first T-shirt and put it back. It was from a Billy Joel concert from a few years ago. Others were from marathons or cross-country meets I had run as a youth. Thumbing through the next few I realized I could not use those either. They were from my ex mother-in-law. I never saw the old bat wear any of those T-shirts, but since T-shirts were her go-to and since she has passed away, I could not bear to part with those either. Finally, it came down to two: one faded T-shirt with paint splotches and one from my ex.
I was surprised by the attachment to old T-shirts, but they are more than cotton swaths sewn together, aren’t they. They are, in fact, a slide-show of a life. A memorable trip here with gourmet foods and bold wines, a contest there performed in a body that is much older now, and the almost tangible presence of a crotchety loved-one now gone. Because of this experience, I have come to the conclusion that there is only one remedy for covering flowers next time: Wal-mart.
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