Eddie Bauer Stine Jacket

Dear Son,

You are flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone. I carried you for nine months, gave birth to you under duress, nourished you at my breast, and have loved and tended to you for 12 years.

I have let you wear my socks, hijack my slippers, wrap yourself up in my bathrobe, steal my sweatshirts, pad around in my Tevas, sleep in my t-shirts, use my towel, sip my drinks, share my bed, and even borrow my jeans. However,  I have my limits: never again sneak out of the house wearing my leather Eddie Bauer jacket.

I’d give you a kidney but my EB jacket has my soul tucked into its flannel-lined pockets. I bought it ten years ago to reclaim a bit of myself after giving so much away in the process of being a mother. It is not just another item of clothing. It’s a piece of me I can’t live without. It does not belong on a middle school campus or crammed in the bottom of your locker.

I hope now you understand. Borrow Dad’s leather EB jacket—the one I gave him that Christmas in Virginia. He never wears it. He doesn't need it. He's not a leather jacket guy like you. His heart belongs to his Columbia parka.

Love,

Mama