543 Day Writing Journey

Feetie Pajamas. Day 275.

Fleecy flannel feeties, 
Warm, lightweight, cheap,
Kmart $3.99.

Primary red, blue, yellow.
Soft hand-me-downs,
washed in Dreft and Downy.

Hanging by the wooden pins,
by the white plastic toes,
swaying in the North Carolina wind.

Zip up zip down,
carefully,
Lesson learned once.

You, too tall but not too wide,
so I cut the feet off for you,
then they fit again.

Big brother then small,
Same ones shared at different times,
until one day.

No more feetie pajamas
swaying in the wind, 
or tumbling in the washer, 
or sticking out of the top drawer, 
or in the cart at the non-existent Kmart.

One day, gone.
No warning or thought.
Just gone, 
in the dump on Ramsey Road in Jacksonville,
or the white trash bag for the Good Will,
or the box in the attic that the rats got to.

Gone. 
RIP feetie pajamas. 



1 thought on “Feetie Pajamas. Day 275.”

  1. Where are our babies? Even our grandbabies have disappeared into young adults already.
    Time is flying by much too quickly. I miss them. I miss you guys too.
    Auntie Sue

    Liked by 1 person

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