Something about an old t-shirt

Just right

Cotton worn thin as silk from too many late nights – t-shirt
bedclothes carrying loose woven memories as threadbare,
softly frayed as the neckline I cut low with dull scissors.

I remember when I bought it the witty little devil and angel dogs and
cats sketched on the front were okay by me (another way of saying
nothing but saying it well) and first impressions were past enough
that it passed muster. I didn’t know at the time – no way to – that 10
years later it would be the last fabric of that weekend when your girls
stayed over and we laughed about nothing and it all felt just right.