Clothed in Love

I guess it was because I was the little cousin.

It started with Kim, the older cousin who was more like a big sister.  She was so cool and always a couple of steps ahead of me. When I visited her, I was mesmerized by the way she decorated her room. And her clothes. I’d imagine myself in those clothes and I couldn’t wait to be cool like Kim.  And sure enough, from time to time, a big bag would arrive and there would be all the clothes I’d been dreaming of. Would the green dress be there? (I waited two rounds for the green dress.) What little piece of “cool” was she giving me?

Hand-me-downs followed me into adulthood. I get that same feeling when I open the bags now. What treasures will I find? The pair of shoes they knew were my size?  The accessory with just the right bling, the kind of thing I never would have picked out for myself? How did people think of me as they packed those bags?  

Several years ago, I saw myself in the mirror and stopped as I softened. There was a truth I hadn’t seen before. I was clothed in love.

I was wearing the leather boots from Maggie who brings out my inner princess. There was the top a friend bought at a thrift store because she thought it looked like me. And the necklace with the Tao symbol someone made me because I remind him of balance.  From head to toe, evidence that I am loved, that someone thought of me and cared for me.

Most days I get dressed and get about my day, but from time to time I notice the rings my parents found for me on their travels or the earrings left on my desk one day just because someone loved me, the things that are always there, always available. I see the evidence that I am not alone in this world. I am loved.