That Green Coat

Untitled Part 1

There is no object more fit to describe her than that coat, which has been with her for what seems like a lifetime. I've only seen my grandmother three times in my life, two in full consciousness, and every time she was wearing that coat. It was a dark green color, the tone of withering vegetation, and of an austere conservative style. The stiffness of the cloth, the hermetic seams, the way it would maintain its shape remaining utterly unbending, and how it used to irritate my skin upon contact; they all remind me of her. It is intriguing how objects often come to resemble their owners.

The ritual was simple and unchanging, every morning she would wake up and clean her body, she would put on dress pants and slowly button her blouse, taking the time to smooth every crease and extract every fluff. Only then would she be ready to place the thick coat upon her shoulders and with the concentration of a gladiator, she would smooth the lapel and pull the collar, stretch the welt pocket and bend the flap, test the sleeve buttons and tuck the cuff of her blouse, and with a final firm tug of the hem she would be ready for battle, her coat looking exactly as it did the day before. She used to wear it at all times, whether it was outside or inside, day or night, summer or winter, she would always put on the coat, for the world she ventured upon, seemed like a cold and unforgiving place.

I know she did not have this coat when she was a little girl, but sometime after a series of great sorrows which cut her childhood short, her bare skin became unable to withhold the weather, and the coat appeared, as a crucial garment for her survival. After every painful event she had to go through on her own, the threats of the coat gradually thickened and hardened. She never took it off. Not when the cold faded and in its place came a gentle breeze that caressed her with a lukewarm touch, nor when the beating sun would urge her to take it off and let her body breathe. She kept that coat upon her shoulders because she knew how rapidly seasons may change and how lonely the world can get without something to keep warm with.