My Grandma's Coat

It's been called my Superman coat, my hipster coat, a worn-out, out-dated thing that needed to be replaced. But my step-grandma's ski jacket is special, even though the tassels have fallen off the pockets and the zipper needed to be replaced and it is in desperate need of a wash. One of the pockets is torn and pens and pieces of gum sometimes make their way into the lining. It's blue, with an orange and yellow diamond on the back; iconic of the styles of the late 70s, early 80s with its big color and tight fit. I don't remember when I got it, sometime in high school because I have a vivid memory of the dashing school president complimenting it when I was a sophomore. I've had countless strangers ask me where I bought it or if it were a Goodwill find. Last winter, the metal zipper older than I finally went out, but I cared enough to get it replaced with a sturdy plastic version; amazingly in the same dark blue color. It's my armor against the cold, a hug from a long-gone relative, a reminder that sometimes the old is better than the new.