Winter and Jackets


It’s winter, that time of year where the only redeeming quality about it is being able to wear my favourite jacket. A long time ago, it belonged to my dad. He got it when he was twelve, a little on the big side so it’d last him longer. It didn’t take him long to grow out of it and the jacket ended up hanging in his wardrobe for years. Then one June-July school holidays when I was sixteen, we had colder than usual weather and I wanted to go out that night. So I raided my dad’s wardrobe and found the most awesome jacket ever.

Taking it into the lounge room, I said, “Dad, I’m stealing your jacket.”

“Return it when you’re finished with it.”

I grinned. “Yeah, sure. When I’m finished with it.”

He stared at me for a moment then nodded. I bet he knew that I planned never to be finished with it.

It’s a khaki corduroy jacket with a silk lining. Now it is looking rather worn and the lining is growing tatty, but it’s still comfortable and warm. No other jacket I’ve owned has been as comfortable. And that’s what a jacket should be. Something comfortable and warm to make those cold winter days more bearable.

I guess one day I’ll have to retire my jacket when it becomes too old and worn to do its job. But it won’t be this year. My friends and family will have to suffer through at least another year of my favourite jacket. And to my kids, keep your hands off my jacket, I’m not finished with it and you certainly can’t have it no matter how much you think you want it.