The Coat

Given her by one of her beauxs, it hung in a special, cedar-lined closet with others; lengths of pelts, different textures and colors. All beautiful, but the silver fox was my favorite and I'd lusted after it for years.
As a young teen, I'd sneak it out, put it on, parading around in front of a mirror, pretending to be a movie star, cooing "Dahlinks", and "Oh please, I look a fright!", to my reflected image.
It was so soft, and I loved how it tickled my chin.

As a young woman, I would ask at times if I could wear it to some special function or another....Mardi Gras ball, midnight mass at Christmas, but the answer was always "no". "You might burn it, or spill something on it."
The last time I asked was about 6 years ago. My husband and I were to attend a function representing U.P.S. (his employer), and I just knew this would be the time she would say "yes". (By this time, she was close to 300 pounds, and couldn't wrap one of her thighs with the damn thing.) I was wrong.

There were many times in the past when the MPU would inquire as to what I wanted, "left to me" after her passing, and quite frankly, those convos gave me the "willies". But, she would persist until I would finally reply (always the same way), "Ok! Fine! Leave me the furs and the diamonds!"

I found the coat while I was in Florida. Hanging in the closet (of the room where I slept on the floor), it's pelts had begun to pull away from the lining; a pitiful remnant of a once beautiful garment.

I'll never understand (just another unanswered question), why she wouldn't want to see me enjoy the coat while she was still alive. How could she deny me such a simple pleasure when she could no longer wear it?!

It's just so hard for me to understand how I could have come from such a selfish person, but I do know why it was so easy for me to hang it back in the closet...and close the door.