The anti-minimalist

It was cloudy this morning, the kind of weather that encourages and facilitates morbid thoughts. Enfant Terrible's laundry was drying on the balcony, moving slightly with the gentle breeze.

In the middle of my yoga warmup, I found myself thinking of how my mother-in-law wears my late father-in-law's* clothes sometimes, like when she goes for walks. I guess that's how she consoles herself.

I don't think I could do that if it were me and ET had died. Honestly, I think I'd probably give all his clothes away, save a few pieces. I wouldn't want any reminders of the yawning hole in my life.

*He died from lung cancer last year. It still feels unreal.