I have a favorite shirt
That has a little tear,
And when my husband saw it,
He said, “What happened there?”
The shirt is blue and wrinkly,
Two buttons broke in half;
I don’t know how the tear occurred,
Or if I’ll sew it back.
The shirt was picked with me in mind
By my friend Michelle.
She surprised me at a soccer game
And said I’d wear it well.
The shirt should last forever,
From my mortal point of view.
If I can wear it, tear and all,
Then maybe I’ll last too.
Eternal things are in my heart,
Yet how I cling to earth —
To favorite shirts and shoes and books;
The loving gives them worth.
The tear reminds me day by day
That one day I’ll be gone.
No matter how I want to stay
I’ll leave my shirt, go home.
I have a shirt that my friend Michelle gave me two years ago during our boys’ soccer season. She heard me say I needed to shop for clothes, so one day she showed up to the soccer field with two shirts she’d bought for me through a local resale website.
The favored shirt is a thin, long-sleeve, button up shirt, light blue and wrinkly. It’s the kind of shirt that is made to be wrinkly, and it’s the shade of blue that is my favorite color. It reminds me of Michelle every time I wear it, but now that I’ve worn it so often, it also reminds me of me.
The shirt is so lightweight that I can wear it in warm weather if I’m a little cold or suppose I might become so. I put it in my purse when I go to the grocery store on a summer day. I always wear it at Costco when I pick out produce in what my kids call the “cold room.” I take it to Tandem in case it’s chilly on the porch, or chilly inside. I take it to church if I’m not dressing up that Sunday. I take it to volunteer at my kids’ school to cover my tattoos. I take it places like Sailor takes her loveys and hope I won’t lose it.
The shirt got a tiny rip in the left sleeve just above the elbow recently. I don’t remember catching the sleeve on anything, but TJ noticed the tear and asked what happened. Two buttons also broke in half. I found half a button in the dryer and half a button in my purse. The other halves still cling to where they are sewn to the shirt.
Why do clothes tear? Why do buttons break? I want things I love to last forever, but they don’t. They can’t. The shirt teaches me about mortality, which the dictionary says is the state or condition of being subject to death. The shirt will tear and its buttons will break. My love cannot keep it fully intact because it is subject to decay.
My love cannot keep me here either. My body will get worn in and then worn out. I will finally be getting comfortable with my insides and then my outsides will force a return to the dust from which they came. I will have to say my goodbyes not only to shirts I love, but to people and places too. One day I’ll eat my last crepe at Tandem, take my last turn waterskiing, make my bed and check my phone one last time. I will say my last “Liturgy for First Waking” and drink my last cup of coffee.
I hope it’s good coffee. And I hope I will be old and wrinkly just like my shirt before that day comes. I hope that the increase in unraveling, fading, and stretching, of body and shirt, which cannot be skirted, always reflects the greater treasure and comfort of things well worn and loved.
“I’m going to live until I die.”