Leather and Grace
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The leather was heavy like a Harley, but the jacket velvety and sculpted like couture. Spent every penny I had. Then my grandmother died.
My boyfriend lent me $100 to travel to the funeral. I set out for Philadelphia with a broken heart and a badass jacket. That night, someone broke into the car and stole it-along with the money in the pocket. My last $100. (Ok, my boyfriend's).
How I cried. "I thought that beautiful coat would last forever."
"Oh it will," said my brother dryly, "you just won't be the one wearing it."
Thinking of that today, and my wild, beautiful grandmother. Whenever I lose money I like to pretend the universe is sending it down the line to someone who needs it more.
And somewhere out there someone is wearing a sumptuous leather jacket. May it envelop them with love and last forever.