At Grift & Sift, Chapter 8

 

More and more the clothes’ softness matters. Tired parchment skin needs some sympathy.

The funny-looking jacket thing I pulled off a rack months ago, 1XL, bear black? Fluffy and plump, it’s like wearing a bunny skin outside in. Our visit in March at Geoff and Alyson’s, I was able to draw up the hood against the New York cold. I couldn’t see around it, though. Alyson had to keep pulling on my arm, worried I’d walk into traffic.

Then the next leg of our trip, in chilly Pittsburgh, Grandgirl sailed around the house in my coat, jubilant. She pretended it was her hair. She came floating down the stairs, her ebony mane streaming on behind.

Now is its season for hibernating.

 

 



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