Threadbare and sentimental

Good. Bye.

Perhaps no two words in the English language conjure up more emotion than those. But really, isn't it just one word? Yes, of course it is. What was I thinking?

Goodbye.

'Tis the sweet memories of time shared darkened by the sudden knowledge of what will never be again. What was it Bone wrote? "For had I known that someday goodbye we would say, I rather would have chosen never to have lived that day."

Goodbye is never easy to say, and even harder to do. Especially when the thing you are saying goodbye to is... a favorite sweater.

I think the time has come to part with my DQ sweater. No, not GQ. DQ. As in, Dillon Quartermaine. I wore it Monday and, well, let's just say it has seen its better days. The once royal and pristine gray is showing the slightest signs of fading. It has started to pill. And also has begun to lose its shape. A couple more wears and frankly, I'll look like I'm draped in a Snuggie. And no one wants to see that.

Why is the sweater such a tragic figure? It's the Holly Golightly of the wardrobe. Like the really hot, high maintenance girl you date. You know it's going to require a lot of work and extra attention and in the end it's not going to last. But you do it anyway. Just because she's so pretty and soft to touch.

Of course, eventually she becomes threadbare and you begin to see her flaws. Her arms start to sag and she loses her shape. And you realize she is no different than every other soft and pretty thing you've ever touched. Wait, what are we talking about again? Oh, right.

We are here today to pay our final respects to the DQ sweater. It has served me well. It wasn't the best sweater nor the worst sweater, not my last sweater nor my first sweater. But it is the only sweater I have ever written an entire blog entry about.

I will always remember its mockneck collar with three-button placket, and how well it went with a pair of jeans and my black leather jacket. I remember when one of its buttons came off, and how I found some girl to sew it back on. And then how it came off again, and...is there anything in the world less reliable than the buttons on clothes?

And so with that, let us lay to rest the DQ sweater. But do not mourn for me. Rather beware. For while today it is mine, all our sweaters shall one day fall.

"If you want to destroy my sweater, hold this thread as I walk away. Watch me unravel..."