Like so many people, one of my cherished childhood memories is falling asleep in the pile of coats on a relative’s bed, during a house party. For me, it was the coats piled in my grandparents’ bedroom, which always smelt like freshly ironed white cotton and Nivea lotion. Their bedroom, which, after my parents’ divorce, became mine and my sisters’ bedroom, had a trio of windows that looked out on to the side yard. On party nights, it was only cool black and deep green out there. Peace to me, or one of its incarnations, is lying on top of tweed coats that smell of Old Spice, on a slightly muggy April night after Easter dinner, those windows open up to the air, a breeze flowing through the white gauze curtains.
I remember those piles of coats on the bed.
thank you for this!
LOVE THIS.
I remember Shag! I think about the line "we're not going to fort Sumter to tour any goddamn colonial homes" all the time.
I loved this one.
Swoon!
I love all the mini-stories! The party savers could be its own movie.