My Mom Wore the Same Ragged Coat for Thirty Winters – After Her Funeral, I Checked the Pockets and Fell to My Knees
My name is Jimmy. I’m thirty-six years old, and for most of my childhood, I was embarrassed by a coat. Charcoal gray wool. Thinning at the elbows. Cuffs pilled and frayed. Two mismatched buttons my mom had sewn on years apart. It looked tired. When I was fourteen, I made her drop me off a … Read more