It’s not like I’m going to wear it again….maybe…

After several weeks of talking about it, I finally cleaned out the front hall closet yesterday. Not just a “here, shove things around, where’s your winter boots, oh THERE’S the umbrella” kind of cleaning. No, this was a real take everything out/pile it all in the living room/sort through/be merciless/throw things out/nothing’s going back in there that doesn’t serve a purpose kind of cleaning.

Even vacuumed the cobwebs from the ceiling. When’s the last time you looked at the ceiling of your front hall/coat closet?

We last painted the front room just before the baby was born and the hall closet didn’t get painted because painting closets is a hassle. The baby will be 12 on Thursday.

Wait, that can’t be right.

Damn. Now we’ll have to paint the front room, won’t we?

Anyway.  Even the Girl with The Knee commented on her way out today, “Hey, you can see right to the back of the closet!”

So, the benefit of being the one that cleans the closet is that I didn’t have to fight for the right to put my Levi jacket back in it.  My “jean jacket” if you will.

When I was a teenager, I aspired to have a jean jacket. Pretty sad, huh? I can remember, on the high school band trip, scouring the malls of Montreal in search of a jean jacket. I can remember that the hubby had three – a white one, a black one and a blue one. And eventually, early on, before he was even The Boyfriend, he bought me the bleached denim Levi jacket that looked exactly like the one in the front hall closet. Jean jackets were tough, they were cool. Leather jackets were for bad girls – jean jackets were for girls that just wanted people to think they were bad.

Jean jackets were staying out ’til the wee small hours, hanging around the pinball machines, driving to London for a cup of coffee just because. Jean jackets were loud music and laughter and boys and tears. Jean jackets were carnivals and mall food courts and movie theatres.

For a while, jean jackets were even the thing that said, “Sure you’re someone’s mom, but you’re still a PERSON. And a matching jean jacket for your two-month old is a perfectly reasonable purchase.”

It has been at least 15 years since I last wore a jean jacket, and the one in the front closet isn’t it. However, a few years ago, this one appeared in the house and since it LOOKS exactly like the one I lived in throughout my teens, I’m keeping it.

Because, you see, that’s who I was, and it’s important for me to remember that. There isn’t a single solitary “today” thing about my life that I would trade for the messed-up, clueless and self-absorbed teenager that I was, but that doesn’t mean she’s not still inside me.  I’ve changed a lot, but I’ve either kept, or rediscovered all the good bits – the creativity, the passion, the hope – and learned how to make the most of them without the messed-up, clueless, self-absorbed part.

But I’ve promised the kids I won’t wear it. I still think jean jackets are pretty cool, but the grown-up I’ve become is way cooler.