Like A Mental Patient

At first, I was a bit surprised by the clothes I was pulling out of the giant crates in my closet. But then I remembered, when I moved last April, I’d put every crate I knew contained clothing in the back on my new closet, figuring I’d take a gander some day. Well, this was the day and I was stunned at some of the stuff I’d kept.

I found the suit I got married in, all those years ago. I found my old black trench coat and immediately wished it ever got cold enough in Bakersfield to wear it. I found a black and red hockey jersey with the Ministry logo on it. I found a Green Lantern hoodie (pictured above) that I immediately took out and put on a hanger to be worn sooner than later.

And I found an artifact from all the way back in the 8th grade. It’s an old white trench coat, missing the lining. It looks like something a crazy person would wear. Or maybe a dentist. I wore that thing constantly for five years before retiring it. I thought it was cool to look like a mental patient back in those days. I had no idea that I’d kept the thing.

I pulled the trench coat out of the crate and put it on. It was a bit musty from having been stored all these years, but it still fit. I found the largest mirror in the house and admired my reflection. I looked positively certifiable. “No one would possibly approach me if I ever wore this in public again,” I thought.

I remembered how off-putting the trench coat was back in school. I often felt like I was some sort of gatekeeper back in those days. Like if you had the audacity to approach me while I wore a coat that made me look crazy and actually say something, you must have been worth my attention. Obviously, that wasn’t the smartest way to pick my friends, but it was how I operated.

Frowning, I placed the white trench coat back in its crate. “Not now. Not yet.” The crate went back into the closet, in the back corner. It’ll be another year or so before I look at it again. Maybe then the time will be right.