The Cardigan

Going back to a forever fleeting sensation I experienced as an adolescent of maybe 14, the height of summer and its at times relentless heat, brings a longing for the onset of autumn. Something about that first feel of crisp, cool morning air announcing the end of summer always has filled me with both a twinge of sadness and exhilaration. It has always been an elusive sensation, and mine is associated with the desire to wear a soft, luxurious feeling pastel coloured cardigan, with long, slightly overflowing sleeves , slightly too big in size, with a mohair touch and look, in a smoky brown. I know, it sounds so irrelevant, but I am still looking for that perfect cardigan, and the sensual, relaxed feeling wearing it will give me as I am walking along on that crisp, breezy, sunny autumn afternoon. I am not sure where that longing ever originated, but it certainly has stuck around. It is amazing how parts of our hearts and feelings are held together with the glue and paste of small, invisible concerns and longings, that somehow hold together the larger constructs of our being. Soft cardigans are one detail of my make-up that no one knows about, or I have ever even vocalized. There are not that many people in my life that would be around to have these detailed or casual conversations with about something so small. But perhaps the quiet, private beauty of a small anecdote like that is what has allowed that slightly sweet melancholy to persist for me all these years. Because every year, when I feel drenched to the bone by summer's heat, I feel that same longing I have felt for over 40 years now, to walk in the first cool fall air wearing that perfectly soft, comfy cardigan. Maybe this year I should just go and find me one and actually make that hazy, longing feeling something I can touch. I am not sure why I have waited so long, perhaps because the feeling takes me back to being just 14. Going and buying the  cardigan may make me realize I really am 57, and maybe that will be a whole other melancholic feeling as I find a grey hair or two mixed in with the blond ones when I put the cardigan on its hanger a the end of the day.