My Little Goodwill Sweater

The room had to've turned at least seven shades brighter as I put it on. The sweater was so simple- a thrifted piece, a bit on the larger side, and off-white with blue floral accents near the wrists; at least it appeared simple to anyone else, but to me it was absolutely extravagant. The delicate ultramarine flowers littered the sleeves like fallen stars; the pattern almost mimicking that of the teacups sitting unused in my grandmother's China cabinet. The sleeves weren't itchy and fell right where my palm met my wrist. It never fell apart in the wash, there were no tags, and it was just cool enough to wear in Summer while also being just warm enough to wear through Winter. This sweater had been with me longer than most of my friends, having sat with me through barbeques, parties, midnight crying sessions, all nine hours of my third cousin's wedding, and now on this rainy afternoon in May. As strange as it was to think about, my life story lived woven in this little Goodwill sweater and I don't think I'd have it any other way.