Poem: "Clothes Worth Wearing"
This poem was written outside the regular prompt calls. It was inspired by the "Being Helped" square in my 6-1-22 card for the Cottoncandy Bingo fest, and the Brown square in my 6-1-22 card for the Food Fest Bingo. It has been sponsored by a pool with Dreamwidth user Fuzzyred. It belongs to the Rutledge thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. It follows "The Unbearable Clarity of Lost Things" so you might waqt to read that first.
Warning: This poem is mostly fluff and comfort, but has a background of war trauma and poverty.
"Clothes Worth Wearing"
[Morning of Saturday, May 2, 2015]
Karimah Suleiman went
to Shaw's Thrift Shop in
hopes of finding something
that she could actually afford.
Her husband Mahir had come
home last weekend all excited
about a new way to repair chairs
using some sort of clear stuff.
It made Karimah wonder if she
could do something with clothes.
Her daughter Afra had worn out
the knees of her jeans, and now
trudged listlessly beside Karimah
so she could try on used pants.
When they went inside, though,
Karimah spotted a row of boxes in
the front room of miscellaneous things.
Above them, a banner read, Salvage.
One was marked, Free Clothes.
Curious, Karimah, began
poking through the box
for anything useful.
The garments on top
were men's clothes, but
there were women's and
children's clothes below.
Everything had big rips
or stains in it, though.
No wonder they were free.
Karimah sighed. She was
tired of looking like a ragbag.
Back in Darayya, she had been
a skilled and popular seamstress.
Now she used her skills to mend
her family's clothing, but there
was only so much you could do
before the fabric fell apart.
Another young woman
moved down the row and
joined Karimah at the box
of salvage garments.
"Hi, I'm Felicity Mills,"
she said. "I'm a teacher.
Do you mind if I look through
the box after you're done?"
"We can look together.
I'm Karimah and this is
my daughter Afra,"
she said softly.
She missed all of
her women-friends
from Darayya. She
missed her sister, who
had died with her family
in the same bombing that
had killed Afra's siblings.
"Thanks," said Felicity. "I
could use another sweater.
Did you happen to see any?"
"Yes, but they're all torn or
stained." Karimah pointed
to a blue one and a coral one.
"I'm not sure how to repair
knit sweaters instead of fabric."
"Oh, this is perfect," said Felicity.
"I can patch it and do a bit of
embroidery to dress it up."
"You can fix all that?"
Karimah said, staring at
the sweater that had both
elbows ripped out and
a big stain on the front.
"It's easy if you know
knit-in-place patching,
and maybe a bit of
embroidery as well,"
Felicity said. "This is
good wool, so it should
mend and last well."
Karimah could see that
the yarn was still strong.
It had just worn through at
the elbows, and the front of
the sweater had probably
snagged on something.
Several chattering women
came over, greeting Felicity.
They looked like a grandmother,
a mother, and a daughter.
Karimah felt even lonelier.
Then Felicity nudged her gently.
"Karimah, I'd like you to meet
my friends. Granny Patches,
her daughter Chenille, and
her granddaughter Darner live
at Emerald Mountain Glen."
Karimah had heard of
that place. People said
it was full of hoppies,
whatever that meant.
"It's always nice to meet
new friends," said Chenille.
"We're looking for salvage,
what about you folks?"
"I found a sweater,"
Felicity said happily,
holding up the blue one.
"Jeans for my daughter,"
said Karimah. "I could
use fresh clothes, too,
but ..." She shrugged.
"Money's tight today?"
Felicity said quietly.
"That, and we don't have
many, so they all wear out
faster," Karimah explained.
"I have been fixing what
I could, but these are
already in bad shape."
"They're not so bad.
You just have to learn
how to see the potential
in things," Darner said.
"Clothes worth wearing
are worth repairing."
"Can you fix my jeans?"
Afra said suddenly.
"The knees ripped."
Karimah was stunned.
Afra rarely spoke anymore,
quiet and withdrawn after
her injuries and the loss of
so many family members.
"We sure can," Darner said.
"What do you like? Hearts,
flowers, rainbows, kittens?"
"Flowers," said Afra.
"I miss our garden."
Karimah's heart ached.
In Darayya, they'd had
a lovely raised bed in
the community garden
of their apartment building.
Here, their building didn't
have a garden, just flowerbeds
someone else took care of.
"It's sad to miss things
you used to have, isn't it?"
Felicity said. "Maybe someday
150 you can grow a garden again.
Meanwhile, you could come
and visit my garden instead."
"Or ours," said Granny Patches.
"Emerald Mountain Glen has
all kinds of gardens to see."
Afra looked up at her mother.
"Can we go there? Please?"
Karimah couldn't remember
the last time her daughter
had asked for anything,
let alone shown interest
in anyone she didn't know.
"Yes, we can visit the gardens,"
said Karimah. "It sounds lovely."
"Well, why don't you come over
to Emerald Mountain Glen with us
today?" Granny Patches invited.
"We have plenty of craft space."
Felicity nodded. "A bunch
of us who like mending things
get together once or twice
a week. You could join."
"Maybe just the six of us for
today," said Chenille. "Not
everyone wants a crowd."
"Quiet is good, at least
to start," said Karimah.
"Well, let's see what we
have to work with here,"
Darner said as she
reached for the box.
"I've got one sweater,
but I'd be happy to find
a few more," said Felicity.
Granny Patches held up
a plaid flannel shirt in shades
of orange, yellow, and gray.
It already had a few patches
and the elbows had given out.
"This is wool," she said happily.
"Slap some leather patches
on the elbows and I'll have
a good gardening shirt."
There were children's jeans,
but clearly the wrong sizes
to fit Afra. Karimah sighed.
Darner reached down for
a coarsely woven hat with
a frayed edge and a hole.
"What do you think?" she said,
turning to her grandmother.
"Run the edge through
a sewing machine and
it should be good. I like
the fringe on the brim.
What about the hole?"
"That's baja cloth, so you
could easily reweave it with
threads taken from the edge,"
said Granny Patches. "Or
you could just sew it up and
cover it with something pretty."
"Or buttonhole the edges and
poke a ponytail through it,"
Chenille suggested.
They had far more ideas
for fixing things than
Karimah was used to.
She usually tried to mend
things so that the repairs
wouldn't show too much,
and that didn't work on
some kinds of damage.
She was intrigued by
the new approach, and
wondered if she could get
back into sewing more.
Soon Karimah found
a hat of warm brown wool.
Like Darner's, though, it had
a huge hole on one side.
"My husband Mahir would
like this, if it could be fixed,"
Karimah murmured, poking
her fingers through the hole.
"I can teach you how to patch it,"
Felicity offered. "Knit-in-place is
a great skill to have in your bag."
"Yes, please," said Karimah. She
could knit and crochet a little bit.
Learning repairs would be good.
Several torn afghans filled
the bottom of the salvage box,
odd jumbles of brown, cream,
and assorted brighter colors.
"I can fix these," said Chenille.
"Crochet is easy to repair, and
I've got bags of acrylic yarn that
I hardly ever touch nowadays."
"No kiddie jeans?" Felicity said,
looking at the almost-empty box.
"None anywhere near Afra's size,"
Karimah said glumly. "We'll have
to try the racks of children's clothes."
"Or you could just bring the ripped ones
and we'll fix those," said Felicity. "I can
drive you home, then to the commune."
"Pick up anything else that needs
mending, too," said Granny Patches.
Karimah thought of her favorite sweatshirt
with its cheerful purple sleeves. Now it
had a hole in the front, and several stains
that she hadn't managed to wash out.
"I'd like that," she said. "We do have
other things in need of repairs."
"Let's make a whole salvage day
of it," said Chenille. "There's plenty
here to go through." She turned to
the shopkeeper. "Hey, Aurinda,
do you mind if we lay claim to
the whole salvage box of clothes?"
Aurinda hesitated. "I'd rather not
leave it empty for the next person."
"Okay, how about we buy it?"
Chenille countered. "I'll give
you twenty bucks for the lot."
"Deal!" Aurinda said happily. "I
can restock it with the 'maybe' pile."
So Karimah and Afra helped Felicity
stuff everything back into the big box
while Chenille went to the counter to pay.
Granny Patches taped the box shut
so it wouldn't spill. "See you at the Glen,"
she said as she headed outside.
"Ready to go?" Felicity said,
turning to Karimah and Afra.
"Yes, thank you," said Karimah,
and they climbed into her minivan.
They had clothes worth wearing,
even if that meant a bit of mending,
and they had met some people
who might become friends.
It had been a good trip,
and the day wasn't over.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its notes appear elsewhere.
Warning: This poem is mostly fluff and comfort, but has a background of war trauma and poverty.
"Clothes Worth Wearing"
[Morning of Saturday, May 2, 2015]
Karimah Suleiman went
to Shaw's Thrift Shop in
hopes of finding something
that she could actually afford.
Her husband Mahir had come
home last weekend all excited
about a new way to repair chairs
using some sort of clear stuff.
It made Karimah wonder if she
could do something with clothes.
Her daughter Afra had worn out
the knees of her jeans, and now
trudged listlessly beside Karimah
so she could try on used pants.
When they went inside, though,
Karimah spotted a row of boxes in
the front room of miscellaneous things.
Above them, a banner read, Salvage.
One was marked, Free Clothes.
Curious, Karimah, began
poking through the box
for anything useful.
The garments on top
were men's clothes, but
there were women's and
children's clothes below.
Everything had big rips
or stains in it, though.
No wonder they were free.
Karimah sighed. She was
tired of looking like a ragbag.
Back in Darayya, she had been
a skilled and popular seamstress.
Now she used her skills to mend
her family's clothing, but there
was only so much you could do
before the fabric fell apart.
Another young woman
moved down the row and
joined Karimah at the box
of salvage garments.
"Hi, I'm Felicity Mills,"
she said. "I'm a teacher.
Do you mind if I look through
the box after you're done?"
"We can look together.
I'm Karimah and this is
my daughter Afra,"
she said softly.
She missed all of
her women-friends
from Darayya. She
missed her sister, who
had died with her family
in the same bombing that
had killed Afra's siblings.
"Thanks," said Felicity. "I
could use another sweater.
Did you happen to see any?"
"Yes, but they're all torn or
stained." Karimah pointed
to a blue one and a coral one.
"I'm not sure how to repair
knit sweaters instead of fabric."
"Oh, this is perfect," said Felicity.
"I can patch it and do a bit of
embroidery to dress it up."
"You can fix all that?"
Karimah said, staring at
the sweater that had both
elbows ripped out and
a big stain on the front.
"It's easy if you know
knit-in-place patching,
and maybe a bit of
embroidery as well,"
Felicity said. "This is
good wool, so it should
mend and last well."
Karimah could see that
the yarn was still strong.
It had just worn through at
the elbows, and the front of
the sweater had probably
snagged on something.
Several chattering women
came over, greeting Felicity.
They looked like a grandmother,
a mother, and a daughter.
Karimah felt even lonelier.
Then Felicity nudged her gently.
"Karimah, I'd like you to meet
my friends. Granny Patches,
her daughter Chenille, and
her granddaughter Darner live
at Emerald Mountain Glen."
Karimah had heard of
that place. People said
it was full of hoppies,
whatever that meant.
"It's always nice to meet
new friends," said Chenille.
"We're looking for salvage,
what about you folks?"
"I found a sweater,"
Felicity said happily,
holding up the blue one.
"Jeans for my daughter,"
said Karimah. "I could
use fresh clothes, too,
but ..." She shrugged.
"Money's tight today?"
Felicity said quietly.
"That, and we don't have
many, so they all wear out
faster," Karimah explained.
"I have been fixing what
I could, but these are
already in bad shape."
"They're not so bad.
You just have to learn
how to see the potential
in things," Darner said.
"Clothes worth wearing
are worth repairing."
"Can you fix my jeans?"
Afra said suddenly.
"The knees ripped."
Karimah was stunned.
Afra rarely spoke anymore,
quiet and withdrawn after
her injuries and the loss of
so many family members.
"We sure can," Darner said.
"What do you like? Hearts,
flowers, rainbows, kittens?"
"Flowers," said Afra.
"I miss our garden."
Karimah's heart ached.
In Darayya, they'd had
a lovely raised bed in
the community garden
of their apartment building.
Here, their building didn't
have a garden, just flowerbeds
someone else took care of.
"It's sad to miss things
you used to have, isn't it?"
Felicity said. "Maybe someday
150 you can grow a garden again.
Meanwhile, you could come
and visit my garden instead."
"Or ours," said Granny Patches.
"Emerald Mountain Glen has
all kinds of gardens to see."
Afra looked up at her mother.
"Can we go there? Please?"
Karimah couldn't remember
the last time her daughter
had asked for anything,
let alone shown interest
in anyone she didn't know.
"Yes, we can visit the gardens,"
said Karimah. "It sounds lovely."
"Well, why don't you come over
to Emerald Mountain Glen with us
today?" Granny Patches invited.
"We have plenty of craft space."
Felicity nodded. "A bunch
of us who like mending things
get together once or twice
a week. You could join."
"Maybe just the six of us for
today," said Chenille. "Not
everyone wants a crowd."
"Quiet is good, at least
to start," said Karimah.
"Well, let's see what we
have to work with here,"
Darner said as she
reached for the box.
"I've got one sweater,
but I'd be happy to find
a few more," said Felicity.
Granny Patches held up
a plaid flannel shirt in shades
of orange, yellow, and gray.
It already had a few patches
and the elbows had given out.
"This is wool," she said happily.
"Slap some leather patches
on the elbows and I'll have
a good gardening shirt."
There were children's jeans,
but clearly the wrong sizes
to fit Afra. Karimah sighed.
Darner reached down for
a coarsely woven hat with
a frayed edge and a hole.
"What do you think?" she said,
turning to her grandmother.
"Run the edge through
a sewing machine and
it should be good. I like
the fringe on the brim.
What about the hole?"
"That's baja cloth, so you
could easily reweave it with
threads taken from the edge,"
said Granny Patches. "Or
you could just sew it up and
cover it with something pretty."
"Or buttonhole the edges and
poke a ponytail through it,"
Chenille suggested.
They had far more ideas
for fixing things than
Karimah was used to.
She usually tried to mend
things so that the repairs
wouldn't show too much,
and that didn't work on
some kinds of damage.
She was intrigued by
the new approach, and
wondered if she could get
back into sewing more.
Soon Karimah found
a hat of warm brown wool.
Like Darner's, though, it had
a huge hole on one side.
"My husband Mahir would
like this, if it could be fixed,"
Karimah murmured, poking
her fingers through the hole.
"I can teach you how to patch it,"
Felicity offered. "Knit-in-place is
a great skill to have in your bag."
"Yes, please," said Karimah. She
could knit and crochet a little bit.
Learning repairs would be good.
Several torn afghans filled
the bottom of the salvage box,
odd jumbles of brown, cream,
and assorted brighter colors.
"I can fix these," said Chenille.
"Crochet is easy to repair, and
I've got bags of acrylic yarn that
I hardly ever touch nowadays."
"No kiddie jeans?" Felicity said,
looking at the almost-empty box.
"None anywhere near Afra's size,"
Karimah said glumly. "We'll have
to try the racks of children's clothes."
"Or you could just bring the ripped ones
and we'll fix those," said Felicity. "I can
drive you home, then to the commune."
"Pick up anything else that needs
mending, too," said Granny Patches.
Karimah thought of her favorite sweatshirt
with its cheerful purple sleeves. Now it
had a hole in the front, and several stains
that she hadn't managed to wash out.
"I'd like that," she said. "We do have
other things in need of repairs."
"Let's make a whole salvage day
of it," said Chenille. "There's plenty
here to go through." She turned to
the shopkeeper. "Hey, Aurinda,
do you mind if we lay claim to
the whole salvage box of clothes?"
Aurinda hesitated. "I'd rather not
leave it empty for the next person."
"Okay, how about we buy it?"
Chenille countered. "I'll give
you twenty bucks for the lot."
"Deal!" Aurinda said happily. "I
can restock it with the 'maybe' pile."
So Karimah and Afra helped Felicity
stuff everything back into the big box
while Chenille went to the counter to pay.
Granny Patches taped the box shut
so it wouldn't spill. "See you at the Glen,"
she said as she headed outside.
"Ready to go?" Felicity said,
turning to Karimah and Afra.
"Yes, thank you," said Karimah,
and they climbed into her minivan.
They had clothes worth wearing,
even if that meant a bit of mending,
and they had met some people
who might become friends.
It had been a good trip,
and the day wasn't over.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its notes appear elsewhere.