The Coat of Many Memories

While searching for some paint supplies today I ran across a treasured item that I haven't seen for a few months. My youngest daughter's little red winter coat with its bright yellow lining beckoned to me. I couldn't resist the urge to pull it off the hanger and hold it close, imagining her at the age of six proudly walking into school, Minnie Mouse bookbag slung loosely over her shoulder, her blue mittened hand waving me on, blonde hair wisping beneath the bright hood snugged around her tiny, smiling face. I could picture her as she disappeared through the doors, heading down the hallway to her classroom and her friends. Everything she needed for the day would be neatly packed into her bag, milk money secured in the tiny Tuxedo Sam wristband coinpurse easily accessible in the little velcro pocket on one side of her bag, lifesavers and sweettarts tucked into the pocket on the other side of the bag. Inside the bag her homework would be protected inside a folder, neatly waiting to be turned in during class. Her blue plastic school box would be filled with pens and pencils, safety scissors, Elmer's glue, a box of Crayola crayons, and tiny assorted erasers in a small round plastic case. In the pocket of her coat would be a travel packet of Kleenex and some stickers she got from the many trips to the doctor and hospital during the course of her battle with the brain tumor lurking in her head. She would make her way down the hall just a bit unsteadily, a result of the surgery that bought her more time in the world she so wanted to be a part of. Her classmates would greet her tenderly, understanding even at their young age that she was fragile. She would tell them jokes and share her stickers, then take her place at her desk for a normal day of classwork and fun. She loved school. I would have liked to keep her home all day with me, to take in as much time with her as possible, but she needed to live like any other child her age, surrounded by the noise and chaos, the laughter and singing, the structure of the classroom. When she walked back out those doors in the afternoon she would be smiling, full of chatter about her day and all that went on in class. I miss her terribly even after twenty years but seeing her little red coat fills my heart with the sunshine that she was.