Sunday, November 23, 2008

268. The yellow shirt

Note: This is another story from the Unknown-author series. Why am I coming up with such stories? I'll tell the answer soon.

The Yellow shirt
The baggy yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed in black thread and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear, but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college on Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away.

You're not taking that old thing, are you?" Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt. "I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!" "It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom.Thanks!"

I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object.The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it. After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.

The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family,since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois. But that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 15 years earlier.

That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her "real" gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again.
The next year , my husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table,I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt! And so the pattern was set.On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad'smattress.

I don't know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added character.

In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois. As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job.I paged through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read,"So use every piece of God's armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will be standing up." I tried to picture myself wearing God's armor, but all I saw was the stained yellow shirt.

Slowly, it dawned on me. Wasn't my mother's love apiece of God's armor? My courage was renewed.Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother.The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station.

A year later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet.Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the works "I BELONG TO PAT." Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven moreletters.

Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, "I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER."But I didn't stop there. I zigzagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington, VA. We enclosed an official-looking letter from "The Institute for the Destitute," announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds.

I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the box.But, of course, she never mentioned it. Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found,wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt.

Inside a pocket was a note:"Read John 14: 27-29. I love you both, Mother."
The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year atage 57. I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave.

But I'm glad I didn't, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirtwith big pockets.

- Author Unknown


  1. touching story!

    thanks for sharing :)
    my friends think im silly because i get attached to things...i even have a problem replacing them with brand new ones...
    but its more like reliving old times with them....its more like going through all of it again...
    will surely share this piece with them...would help them understand, i hope :)

  2. this is the first of your unknown author series that am reading, very touching chriz :)

    chriz wants to prove to the blog world that there's much more to him than just being funny :P

  3. so sweet. straight out of heart and touched me.

  4. where do u get these stories from Chriz...
    awesome:)and very touching!!

  5. ahhhh!...this was reely very touching....

    ps:) I guess u in luv :P
    oops..khata maaf :)

  6. vry emo an touching!

    u not bein funny but it reached out 2 our hea=rts none-the less,,,

    BTW, i need ur help....pls chck tis link:

  7. Good story .It is actually easy to write complex subjects and tough to write simple-feel good stuff . Keep it up , unkown author .

    Btw , i know that the Unknown author is you .

  8. euh I though ur Mr Men pics, Mr Romantic is not that romantic i m afraid, and Mister Macho is not enough macho!!!! Use a beret and a mustache for Mister romantic I heard that French are supposed to be romantic, as for Mister Macho so Italian big fake prada sun glasses with a golden chain will help u getting the macho style ;)
    very funny I shall do the Misses ;)

  9. wow!!!! thats all i can say...

    ps: smthn awaits u on my blog dude :)

  10. @for everyone who thinks this story is by chriz
    as far as i know, this is a story from chicken soup for the soul.i have a copy of it :)
    but i agree, it's beautiful!

  11. Its really really nice...very touching!


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