Letters to My Ratty Grey Sweater

Dear Grey Sweater:

Remember the day I got you? You were just hanging there in that consignment shop. I'd been looking for a casual sweater to wear to class and you were perfect. I could wear you over a pastel tank top with my hair in a clip and a pair of jeans and look like a million bucks. Okay, maybe not that good but at least I didn't look like I'd fallen out of bed. You draped perfectly over my shoulders and around my frame just so. You didn't look too baggy, or too tight.

You were, in a word, the best sweater ever.

-Me

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Dear Grey Sweater:

Remember the day I first wore you to my job at the cafe? That was not our finest moment. You were covering up my shivers since it was late spring in the mountains and it was chilly out. I only owned khaki shorts and the boss lady had problems with blue jeans. So it was shorts and work t-shirts in the cool mornings and you were the right color to cover up my cold arms with.

That day I showed off my impeccable klutziness. I'd accidentally spilled an entire tray of coffee all over the two of us. We both smelled like old coffee by the time we got home. It took you a week to wash out.

-Me

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Dear Grey Sweater:

That first hole in the seam near the hood was a warning sign. I'd been taking you for granted. I pinned you up with a safety pin and went about my fall day. I wasn't working in the restaurant anymore. I was working at a desk from home. Those were good days, remember?

-Me

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Dear Grey Sweater:

Maybe the camping trip to Estes Park for the Wool Market was a bad idea. You snagged on a pole on the tent. That was worrying, but you appeared to be okay. I'm sorry I left you at the campground. I was going into a room full of other, more accomplished knitters than I and I simply couldn't bear the embarrassment of wearing a machine made sweater instead of a handknit one.

You were so resentful you managed to drag into a puddle that night when I tried to put you on. I'm still sorry about that.

-Me

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Dear Grey Sweater:

Going back to college was wonderful, wasn't it? We were almost inseparable in some of the classrooms. Those lecture halls are over-airconditioned, even in the wintertime. You fit nicely into my jackets - especially the lightweight canvas one you looked so nice in. It was just a little warmer in the elements, but not so warm as my winter coat. You made that winter so much more comfortable.

-Me

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Dear Grey Sweater:

The bagginess is unbecoming of you. Why would you do that? Especially on a day like this? I need you to pull yourself together and be a decent sweater, please. I'll put on something else and we'll talk about this later. I'm late.

-Me

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Dear Grey Sweater:

You never used to fall off my shoulders in public.

-Me

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Dear Ratty Grey Sweater:

It's time. The rifts in our relationship are simply to wide to bear. Just like a couple who fights too often, I find myself growing tired of you. I keep looking at grey cotton yarn online and perusing hooded cardigan patterns on Ravelry.

The holes in all of your seams are too large for me to even attempt to sew closed anymore. I tried in the past, but you've started making new holes before the old ones are even finished closing. The fraying in the cuffs is no longer something I can ignore. You're baggy and saggy in the sleeves and along the bottom where you weren't before. You no longer make me look like I didn't just roll out of bed, but now you make a point of emphasizing my unflattering parts. I no longer look lean under you, and while I have gained some weight that doesn't excuse the insult.

You have button loops that are coming apart, and one of the button's strings is fraying. I thought that was such a sturdy string, but I guess it wasn't. In fact, the sturdiness you showed me at the beginning of our relationship is gone now. You're a limp pile of threadbare cotton, and I dread coming across you in the closet.

In fact, I don't even know why I've been talking to you as if you were a person. You are a sweater. An inanimate object. If my wits were about me, I'd simply throw you away since you probably wouldn't hold up for five minutes in the donation bag.

So this is goodbye. I shall be saving up for some lovely Katia Pima Cotton in a fitting grey and knitting something more suitable for my needs.

-Me