An old lady comes to the shop with a donation of clothes to the second-hand store in the basement. She hands me a plastic bag full of what is apparently an old man's underwear, mostly long woollen underpants. Worn, but carefully washed, ironed and folded. She anxiously explains the trouble she has taken to ensure they are proper and clean, because she is sure someone could get a lot of use out of them still. As most of her generation, she has probably had to spend her life trying to make every penny last and nothing go to waste.
Not so in my own generation. I open my mouth hesitantly to say that we don't really take in underwear, especially not so worn, as nobody really buys them second-hand anyway. She adds, hastily, with what looks like tears in her eyes:
"They belonged to my late husband, you see. He passed away last month. These are good underwear. Do you think somebody could use them still?"
I stop the intended words from leaving my mouth. Instead, I thank her gently and take the bag from her. I can always send them with the next charity lorry going to the poorer parts of Russia.
It's the only thing I can do for her. I think I'm going to cry.
3 comments:
It's funny how people like to give away clothing that belonged to the dead. I would want to keep it locked away somewhere as a painful reminder of loss. As a matter of fact, about two years back, I guess, I 'inherited' the clothes that belonged to an aunt of mine who died suddenly at age 24. Wouldn't give those away even if they are in tatters. Heh.
Not speaking the whole truth is often a necessity, sadly.
And, heh, Russia is not the only place in the world where used underwear would still find takers.
It's so subtle, yet so moving. The way you write, the most down-to-earth things throw so much light to forgotten emotions.
I suppose after a life-time of memories, material things are just a pale substitute for the presence that's lost. An unnecessary reminder. Right now, I'm visualising a character like gorky's 'mother'. And i'm sure you did the right thing. Strange to think of poverty in a first-world nation. But I suppose ground-reality is something...
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