Cleared out

A friend of a friend runs a charity that does a lot of work with villages in Nicaragua – building schools, homes, even outhouses. Once a year this woman holds a big fundraising yard sale. My friend, one of the founding members of the Bad Girls Book Club, asked the rest of us to have a clear out and bring donations to our most recent meeting. She was looking for clothes, books, anything that wasn’t rubbish.

I managed a box of books, then went through my closet. There were tops and jackets and dresses I haven’t worn for as long as I can remember that I figured someone else might like. (There were also three or four summer dresses that I probably should have put in the bag, but I like them so much I have to keep kidding myself I will somehow lose the 25 pounds I’d need to lose to ever fit in them again.)

Then I looked at the chest at the end of the bed.

I have no idea when I last looked inside it, but I knew what it mostly contained.

Thirteen years ago, when I was packing up Mike’s clothes to take to the island charity shop, I held on to some things: a couple of tweed jackets that I wore for years, even though they were way too big for me, three plaid Viyella shirts that I gave him and still wear, a couple of cashmere jumpers I wore for years until one summer, unfortunately, the moths got to them.

Then there were the things I folded up and put in that chest. Mostly sweatshirts and t-shirts, but there were also four of his many ties. One was a flowered one, his mother had given him before we met. The other three were ties I’d given him: a Humphrey Bogart tie and two Van Gogh’s – starry night and the café terrace at night. I should have taken a photo of those ties before I put them in the bag, but I didn’t. I have, however, just managed to find a photo of him wearing the flowered one to his daughter’s graduation.

I have no idea if, on this laid back, pretty casual island, there is anyone in the market for cool ties, but I hope there is.

In any case, after 13 years, I think it was time.