Mothers and sweaters: the gifts of letting go
I sifted through both cars, my own and my husband’s, underneath our boys’ baseball equipment, candy wrappers, and empty water bottles. The felt bag was nowhere to be found.
I was finally ready to take this bag of a dozen sweaters, some of which were my fancy cashmeres, to the dry cleaners. Why a dozen, you may ask? Well, these were essentially all the nice sweaters I owned. I waited a …