Coat trading.

3:15 pm.

Back in Colorado after a weekend away.

One of Mom’s winter coats came back with me.

I left mine hanging on the front hooks at my brother’s house; only realizing once we returned back to Mom and Dad’s yesterday morning.

It’s okay. It all worked out. No need to ship coats back and forth. No need to wear the neon pink and purple coat from high school meant strictly for snowshoeing, either.

I keep Mom’s coat for the next few weeks, having her smoky old lady smell* close to me, carrying me through until Christmas when I return back to Wisconsin.

It’s okay. I like it this way. I need it this way.

*Don’t worry, I am not offending my mother – she admitted to both of these smells over the weekend.