My Saturday Friend

My Saturday Friend


Nestled on the shelf above the hanging clothes rack in my closet is my favorite pair of jeans. The place they rest, void of any other articles of clothing, is at the perfect height for me to raise an arm and reach for them in the dark morning each Saturday. As I carefully unfold them, I have to smile. The warm feelings evoked by these jeans are similar to greeting an old friend.
My eyes are immediately drawn to the second belt loop on the right, saluting at an angle. As if flagging my memory, I look to the spot where the loop was once attached to find a button-sized hole with frayed edges. Unfolding them completely, the metallic button on the waistband jingles a familiar tune. Marked with a large letter B surrounded by the words “G. H. Bass & Co Jeans,” the button is cool to the touch. The fresh aroma of fabric softener greets my senses as I bend over to slip my feet into the comfort I know the jeans will provide.
Dark denim has faded to a shade of steel blue in most areas, yet the knees and seat areas are worn lighter still. As the fabric travels along my skin, it has the gentle feel of a mother’s touch. Years of wear have transformed the once stiff, rough denim into soft, supple cloth. As my feet slide through the leg holes, tangled fibers of white cotton dangle from the fabric getting caught in my toes. Memories of many barefooted strolls along the stone paths of my flower gardens cause me to pause and recall the sound made by the pants legs dragging along the rough stone.
Looking at the thigh areas, I see light henna-colored spots from coffee spilled unintentionally. Above the spots is a ragged hole near the right front pocket formed as a result of garden shears being held there. As I slip my hand into the pocket, the tips of my fingers find warm skin where cotton had once been. No longer serviceable to hold coins or seed packets, the pocket lining is a tangle of cotton fibers.
Fastening the jingly button, I have the feeling of being hugged by an old friend. Molding to my frame as though made expressly for me, they allow me to be comfortable in whatever activities I may undertake without discomfort or restriction of movement. Like a trusted friend keeping a secret, they don’t bring attention to the imperfections they hide, but instead, accentuate my positive areas. They elicit feelings of solace so desperately needed from the toll taken by a week filled with stress and labor.
My favorite jeans are like a best friend should be--supportive, comforting, and reliable. On Sundays my jeans are laundered with care and placed in the spot reserved for them alone…until we meet again next Saturday.