The Nearly-Empty Closet

Sometimes – often – I narrate my memoirs to myself as I go through my days. I think to  myself, “and if this day were a chapter, what would be its title?”

I have a title for today: “The Nearly-Empty Closet.” Sounds a little like something from Edward Gorey, doesn’t it?

All that's left.
All that’s left.



That’s it, all that’s left. My 15-year-old son (aka Bigfoot, aka the incredible growing boy, aka he who is taller than us all) and I went through his closet this morning weeding out the clothes he’d outgrown. Above is a picture of what’s left. Not even kidding. To add context, though, I should mention most of the clothes he wears regularly are kept in a dresser. He’s a jeans and t-shirts kind of guy. But he needs a few things other than jeans and Ts. I suppose it’s time to going shopping. Again.

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