Dear Blue Pajama Pants

My Dearest Blue Pajama Pants,

It saddens to me have to write this to you, but I fear that it is time we part ways. Lately you seem to be unwinding at the seems, frazzled and weak. It seems as though I have worn you thin and despite your best efforts, you can no longer provide for me the way you once did.

Indeed, we have been through it all together. I remember when we first met, that glorious night in the hospital. I had just given birth to my daughter and desperate to get out of that dreadful hospital gown. That is when you were presented to me, neatly folded and wrapped in soft white tissue paper, nestled inside a colorful bag. From that day forward I knew we would be close, I just felt it.

We shared countless nights walking the floor with babies, innumerable mornings spent coffee clutching. You always stuck around for the clean up too. Remember that one time we painted the house? You remember, it was late, we waited until after the kids went to bed with my husband. He rolled a stripe of sage green paint on you, right on the back. You thought you were done then, but not me, I still wore you proud. Countless mornings we spent together on the bus stop, it never not once bothered me to be seen with you.

Oh, but now my old friend, you have gone grey and lost color in places, you’ve lost your elasticity, and the holes are spreading. I’m afraid there is not much more you will be able to endure. They say, maybe one more washing. So, before it comes down to you completely unraveling, I will leave you now, as you still have your shape and your dignity. When I look back at photographs of us together I will always be filled with fond memories and adoration I have for you.

Blue pajama pants, its time for me to say goodbye. There will never be another quite like you. You will be missed dearly.

Your devoted friend,

Lisa ❤

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Do you have a garment that devastated you to part with? How bad did you let it get?

This doesn’t look so bad, the back is filled with holes. Its not good.

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A Post for Peace

My husband goes to work, as so many men do.  However, instead of picking up his dry cleaning and knotting his tie, he velcros on his steel plated vest, resting over his heart and loads his weapon, securing it on his hip.  Tonight, I squeeze him for a second longer before he walks out my door, acknowledging the potential danger which he may encounter, unlike most days when I push frightening thoughts out of my mind.  Tonight, we all face the reality of the sacrifice of his profession.  His shiny metal badge and patch on his arm are more than a uniform today, they are a target.  Before I lay my head down at night, I whisper a prayer into my pillow, asking for his safety, the safety of my two brothers and two cousins, who also share his occupation, along with the thousands of others who willingly go to work wearing armor, hoping it will keep them alive, if need be.

The other day my husband was asked to wear his vest and gun at all times.  As police officers were being followed home from work and beaten.  Yesterday, two officers were assassinated, execution style while sitting on post in their police car. It is very easy to have an opinion of someones actions, however if I injected a spectator in the same scenario they would be afraid, because being a police officer is a scary job.  They go to work hoping not to get into an altercation. They respond to a domestic call, walking in blindly into strangers homes.  They show up after the rape, after the kidnap and after the tragic car wreck.  The things these men and women see and deal with is enough to put any normal being into therapy for the rest of their days.  However the men and women who serve and protect, are brave, strong and intelligent individuals, which we rely on to right the wrong, show up when we are desperate and afraid and protect us as a society.

Tonight I cringe as the loud clack of metal echos through the hallway.  He ever so cautiously lock and reloads then slings his weapon on his hip.  This post is a prayer for peace and an end to violence against the men and women going to work, doing their job.  My condolences go out the the families that lost a hero.

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