At the weekend Dan brought down from the attic ten cardboard boxes full of Jon’s clothes that we had boxed up and shipped home after our first visit. Claudia, his then fiancée, was still in the apartment in Scottsdale they had shared, and she helped us move out his personal belongings.
That 'what might have been' feeling hit the pit of my stomach once again, as I hung up two Italian designer suits, remnants from Jon’s stock broking days. Stylish but now out of date. Examining the cut of the jackets, I saw him showing Dan and me and Kathryn the notice board in his office. The feeling of pride that my son was the top earner.
I opened four boxes full of tee shirts, mostly black, but some brightly coloured with crazy motifs. Putting them carefully on hangers, I examined the symbols and signs wondering if they were his rave gear. I found cotton bandanas, purple, blue and red. And a long jellybean hat, fur trimmed with yellow and purple stripes and a fur bob at the end. The ache and the visions returned, this time of flashing coloured lights creating patterns around a room, vibrating music and dancers. Dancing, abandoned, waving their arms in the air, and taking drugs.
A pair of smart shiny shoes and three pairs of trainers were in the next box. He’ll need the trainers, if they’re not too out of date.
Boxer shorts by every designer, in every colour and material filled the remaining three boxes. So many that Dan and I had to go out and buy a chest of drawers to accommodate them.
As I released the clothes from their boxes, they expanded, breathed out their stale odour, and took in the fresh air. The room belonged to Jon.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
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3 comments:
I wish you all the best of reunion and perhaps also the best sleep you will ever have in over five years the night Shaun will be in his bed in hdhgkhis home town.
Hang in there.
It sounds like preparing a nursery for the baby to come home.
Thhinking of you all,
Rachel x
I pray he knows how lucky he is!
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