We all have that ONE thing that no matter how bad things get, how good things get, and all the moments in between, that ONE thing is a staple on your being. An item that if you turned up missing, but this ONE thing wasn't with you, people would know you clearly hadn't run away, because you clearly would have taken this ONE item.
For me, it was my pair of Arizona Jean Co. High Waisted, light wash shorts. These shorts were my child, my best friend, my ride or die, my comfort blanket, whatever you want to call them, these shorts were my best friend.
I stumbled across these denim beauties at a Goodwill on a day I was playing hooky in high school. Sifiting through rows and rows of shorts on the Goodwill rack, there they were, hanging loosely from a garment rack dangling a $7 price tag. From the moment I tried these shorts on, I knew, without a doubt, it was love. These puppies buttoned up perfectly, the kind of fit that flatters your body just the way you want it to, even on the days I was most bloated.
It was amazing to me how these shorts just managed to match so well to any color shirt I put on, and outfit I wore, and any look I was trying to pull together. That was the reason why for so many summer over the past six years, these shorts were my staple and I relied on them.
They were with me at my graduation party from high school, my senior trip, the Grand Canyon, Hawaii, California, my first taste of alcohol, my first day of college, and so many important moments in between. To say these shorts were with me through heart break and falling in love and all the moments in between just doesn't pay homage to the influence of these shorts.
It was almost a safety blanket for me, I knew that regardless of how my day started or ended, how good or how bad it got these shorts would be consistent for me.
I think we all have these objects, inanimate objects that are somehow more important than phones, computers, care, or even pets. Just small tokens that stay consistent in our lives as the years click on and the days add up. They shape us in the way their fabrics are woven together and held by memories.
Some memories are simple, a small, almost unnoticeable mustard stain that reminds me of the time my cousin sprinted by while I was trying to eat dinner, causing me to spill my hot dog onto the concrete by the picnic table. Some stains come and are temporary, tears from the end of a friendship, the same friend who was with me when I discovered the shorts.
They say all good things must come to an end, but I was not prepared for the cloudy morning where I stumbled out of bed to see my demin best friends laying scattered in pieces on the floor. A fate placed on them by my pets.
Six years was not near enough time, but I must move on, and keeping making summer memories, just with different staples this season.
