Chilly weather = gloves for the morning carpool. Messy closet = sorting hats, scarves, and mittens to meet the needs of the season. Found: one glove. Uncovered: a mountain of memories.
I will print this page (maybe on transparency) and attach in my journal. Then I will write what has been shook loose as a result of seeing this glove again. I don't know where the other one went. It doesn't matter. I don't know where I got these. It doesn't matter. I do remember that I had to have them, back in high school, because I had the skis. OLIN MARK IV COMP. Orange. Wearing these gloves was a badge - a symbol that I had the coolest skis. I will never forget getting those skis. I wanted them SO bad. The skis I had were great, but the Olin's rocked. They had squared-off front tips, and the back curled up a little - like they'd be awesome if I decided to take freestyle ballet lessons. They would be perfect with my rockin' white Hanson boots. And my rad bindings with the new-fangled "brakes" (no safety straps!)
We were on a family trip in Aspen. We saw the skis in a shop. I swooned. One night, after hanging in the lodge with my brother and cousins, I headed back up to the room and quietly got ready for bed so I wouldn't wake my sister and parents. I pulled back the covers, slid in to bed, and SCREECHED. There in my bed were the Olins. One of my favorite memories that my Dad *got* me.
This glove has been around for years - one of those things you can't get rid of. It's traveled with me from Minnesota, to Boston, to Chicago, to Traverse City, and to Jersey. I'm sure I've seen the gloves in the mitten basket every winter. Occasionally I would wear them to shovel snow. Now that one has gone rogue, I decided I better take a photo of the faithful friend. It's part of my history, as are the stories attached to it. If this one goes missing, I'll have the evidence in my journal.
What do you see everyday that should be documented in your journal? Get out the camera and walk around your house. Write your stories. It feels good.
