The Bandana Dress -

   A few months ago, I found I had some credit left on one of my nearly maxed-out charge cards. I wanted to spend that money before the winter ended, so I went shopping online. I looked at all kinds of things, none of which I really needed and none of which I actually bought. I put many things in my shopping cart, but when it came time to check out, I removed them all - all except this one dress - it was a bandana print maxi dress - all cotton, red white and blue, border print with paisley patterns and fleur-de-lis motifs, short sleeves, patch pockets and a three button placket yoke. It's very much the kind of garment I would have sewed for myself if I had a sewing machine in my own sewing room in my own home. That was my plan for this part of my life. To have my own Home. Lots of hobbies. A sewing room. Making many of my own clothes.  My own garden. Kids & Grandkids, reasonably good health, a circle of friends that I'd known for many years, for decades, many since the third grade, some of which I had stood up with at their weddings, in our church, in our hometown. I've always dreamed of that kind of lifestyle, that kind of continuity. And strange as it sounds, this dress talked to me about those dreams. I would have worn this dress when I was out weeding my garden in the late spring or trimming the fruit trees in early winter. The postman would have recognized this dress because I was wearing it so often when he came to the kitchen door with letters and a packages and to get his cookie or cupcake or what ever I had for him. My neighbors would recognize this dress before they recognized my face. The pizza delivery guy, who was the grown son of a friend from church who was quite happy the grown son was home for summer break and working a job that was kinda safe, would be familiar with this dress, too. The grown son knew he'd get a good tip at my house. I'd known him all his life.

     The bandana dress was on sale, plus I had a further 20% off coupon because I was such a good customer. I also got free shipping. And with the last bit of credit I had, I bought that bandana dress. When it arrived in the mail a few days later, I was very pleased with it. It fit perfectly. It was so comfy. The colors were awesome, the printed designs were some of my faves. I was very happy with this dress. The fabric was good strong, American made cotton.

     It's exactly like something I would have made for myself. Once upon a time a long time ago, I quite enjoyed making things for myself and my home, by hand. I treasured that experience. I valued hand made things very highly. The few treasured possessions I keep safely wrapped and labeled and stored away in a hope chest are almost all hand made items.

     "You are so much smarter than me," says my partner to me nearly every day. We've been together about 5 years. We've had a really rocky road here and there. We've lived together about two years now, and that's been rocky, too.  I see pictures of us together when we first met and I remark, to myself, how much he's aged, how much grey is in his beard now. How bent and slow he looks. Me? Not so much. Just fatter, and far fewer smiles now then back then. I keep the snow off the roof with Lady Clairol #54, and I plan on using that until I feel secure enough to cut off all my hair and grow it out iron grey and let nature takes its course with me. But that day is not now. Nope....not yet.

     My partner is a nice guy, but terribly flawed. I haven't met a human yet who wasn't terribly flawed, actually, yours truly included, but some folks truly are worse than others. Some folks have done stuff that has damaged them so badly, they just won't ever recover from it. One of my ex's was like that. Some folks have some flaws already in them when they first make their appearance in the world, and as they grow, those flaws expand or deepen. My other ex was like that. They both lost their battles.  Sometimes people are able to work on their flaws and diminish them. I've been trying to be one of those types all my life. Some just don't give a damn. I'm afraid I'm becoming one of those types now - I just don't give a hang about most stuff anymore, about having a nice house, nice furniture, nice cars, nice vacations, expensive hobbies, a diamond wedding ring.

    I'm in the "just grateful" mode these days - just grateful for to-be-alive-and-have-a-place-to-live kinda mode.

    This guy I'm shacked up with, he really does give a damn - he cares very much what people think of him, too much actually, and he wants people to think of him as smart and funny and very entertaining and successful. I think he's all of those things. I tell him that often, too. He smiles that small smile of his. He likes to hear it. And I like to say it. I call him my Mister Man in public. I call him My Darlin', in private.

     But he doesn't think much of himself.

     I dislike it so much when he says negative stuff about himself. I've never met anyone with such terribly low self esteem. It worries me. I've been married (and divorced)  twice before, and both of those men had dreadfully low self opinions. They are both dead now. One from colon cancer, and the other one by his own hand. Both gone because they had no concept at all about self-care. I hasten to add I was not living with them at the time of their demises. The relationships had ended, I left, and it had been years since I'd seen them. They had never been taught to care for themselves and had never spent any time learning about that nor had any interest in taking care of themselves. It was either physical health or emotional health for those two men but the results were the same. They lost their battles. They are both gone.

     So I bought myself this bandana dress. That was two years ago. I've worn it nearly every day since I got it.  I wash it by hand. Actually, I wash all my clothes by hand. I am usually too broke to get the quarters together to go to the laundromat. Hand washing makes things last longer, or so they tell us. As this dress wears thin in places, I do the mending by hand. I particularly like mending. My grandmother took much time teaching me to mend things. She would tell stories about family adventures while we mending something - towels or tablecloths or jeans knees. Those are very nice memories.

     So here we are in this tiny little apartment, surrounded by bits & pieces from the thrift store, working small underpaid jobs, trying not to freak out about no retirement savings for either of us, and trying to behave like middle class people. He and I were both raised middle class so we have memories of that, but we are only one small step away from utter financial chaos. We are both qualified for much better paying jobs, but we've not been able to find them so far.

     But we have it so much better than others. We have a roof over our heads. We have a safe place to sleep. We have food to eat. We have a car to drive. There are so many people out there who don't have those things at all. So many of them can't even find a bit of shade in the summer or a warm place to sit in the winter. We both are qualified to do jobs that would help us sustain a middle class lifestyle, if not better, but we've not been able to find those jobs yet.

    Yet. We are still hopeful. We haven't given up. This recession may be just bad luck, and as the old saying goes, even bad luck runs out in the end.

    So I keep patching the Bandana Dress whenever a tear appears. I tell myself stories while I do that, although there is no one to hear them.  I save plastic bags to reuse and recycle bottles for a few bucks and live with the bits and pieces from the thrift store.

    Am I waiting? Not anymore. No politician is gonna make things better, but I still vote. No idea who or what will make anything better. Perhaps this is as good as it gets.

     Where is my sense of humor? Good question. It used to be amazing. These days, it's kinda fuzzy and unfocused and unreliable. Like me, actually.

    But I am hopeful. And my bandana dress is mended and clean and dry and ready to wear tomorrow.

     It'll be ready for me to wear tomorrow.