Sandra Heska King

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Of Green Mohair and Breakdowns

February 9, 2016 By Sandra Heska King

QUEEN ANNES - MOHAIR

 

Charlene gave it to him. The same Charlene who scrawled across two pages in his high school yearbook. I tease him and call her “If-Our-Love-Is-True-Charlene.” He laughs and crosses his arms and scratches them like he does when he gets embarrassed.

But he still wears it in spite of the holes that have unraveled. He’s practical like that. He hangs on to clothes until they completely fall apart. I try to help things along–pull a thread here, stretch a hole there.

I don’t quite remember, but he might even be wearing it tonight. It’s Thanksgiving weekend, and there’s a police officer at the door. He’s insistent. Somebody has reported us as witnesses to an accident, and we must come to the station and give statements.

My husband is insistent. We were not, it’s silly, it’s stupid, it makes no sense, and we’re not going.

The officer is surprised at the refusal. They argue briefly until Sissy whispers to my husband, “It’s a surprise. Play along.”

I’m a little scared, but we bundle up, leave the warmth of my brother’s home where the family has gathered, leave the laughter, leave the food, and head out into the bitter northern Michigan night. We follow the cruiser that drives west, the opposite direction from the station and pulls into a hotel parking lot. The officer gets out of his car and comes back to ours. “Your mother has made reservations for you here tonight. Happy anniversary!”

I so do not want to be here.

We go to the desk and retrieve the key to our room–which is dark, empty, sterile, and freezing cold. Cold enough, Dennis says later, that if we’d turned on the water in the jacuzzi, it would have frozen. Someone has decorated, and there’s a bottle of champagne.

And right there in that dark doorway, I fall apart, unravel, and break down.

I don’t know if it’s because I miss the warmth and the light and family time. Or if it’s just the safety in numbers–no expectations. I’m not feeling grateful. But I am feeling guilty. There’s nothing–no way, no how–that will make me feel romantic. And that just makes me cry harder.

We’d actually hoped to renew our vows on our 25th, but life has been so incredibly stressful lately. Nobody knows this.

He draws me close and shuts the door. We return to the office. He’s upset because I’m upset, and he explains to the clerk that we just can’t stay, even though the room’s already been paid for. He asks if we can get a credit for another night.

I find a phone and call my sister-in-law. “I. Just. Want. To. Come. Home.” I’m sobbing uncontrollably now.

So we return to the light and the warmth and the laughter, and I’ve pretty much forgotten the rest of the weekend.

*****

We never go back to the hotel, and I don’t know if my mother got the credit. I do know that she wasn’t very happy that her plans unraveled.

That sweater’s gone now. As comfortable as it was, it finally fell irreparably apart. With a little help, of course.

He shakes his head. “I slept with it for years after that,”

“Not true,” I scold. He laughs and crosses his arms and scratches them.

We don’t remember which of us finally disposed of the last fragments. We probably should have held a ceremony at the burn barrel.

Since then our marriage has been stressed and pulled and stretched to the breaking point. But we’re resilient. The threads have held and grown stronger.

And though we still haven’t renewed our vows (we just celebrated #44), he still sleeps with me and not a sweater. Unless I’m wearing one.

You might say we have a mohair marriage.

 

QUEEN ANNE'S - REEDS

 

Some notes about mohair:  The word “mohair” was adopted into English before 1570 from the Arabic, mukhayyar, a type of haircloth, literally ‘choice’, from khayyara, ‘he chose‘. Mohair fiber may be the most durable and resilient animal fiber, and its luster and sheen has helped give it the title of the “Diamond Fiber.” It’s approximately 25-45 microns in diameter and stronger than steel of the same diameter. Its thickness increases with the age of the goat. It’s very elastic, and even if stretched up to 30%, it will spring back into shape. Mohair is also warm as it has great insulating properties. Upholstery, carpets and curtains of mohair are durable and nearly fireproof. And they say it’s not itchy.

Retrieved from the archives and dusted off a bit

 

QUEEN ANNE'S - WATER

 

In the stillness,

Sandy

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Filed Under: Blog, stories, stories and reflections

Comments

  1. Cecilia Marie Pulliam says

    February 9, 2016 at 2:39 pm

    This broke my heart to read. Bless you both for still trying, still working. I pray one day things will move away from stress and heartache.

    My husband and I had a rough start, but gradually worked out all the kinks and we are very, very happy now. I couldn’t imagine life without him. For us, it was PTSD from too many years as a police officer. Through therapy, he is learning to deal with those emotions and nightmares. We’ve drawn incredibly close these last few years, and now we will only grow closer. Sometimes love means giving everything you have, and then more.

    I will keep you in my prayers, Sandra.

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 9, 2016 at 7:53 pm

      Well, it was several years ago. And it was trying to make it through parenting a challenging teen. Our stressors are a little different now. I can’t imagine what life might be like for a police office… then and now. Love to you, Cecilia.

  2. Lorretta Stembridge says

    February 10, 2016 at 10:42 am

    I do so very much love the stories of good lovin’ gone gooder! The simplicity of it all gives me courage to keep doing it well by keeping the expectations and communications real. Beneath every moment that an outsider might see as mundane, there are some powerful fireworks keeping things interesting! Thanks for sharing this story about a good love that can outlast even a great sweater! 🙂

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 15, 2016 at 2:14 pm

      Ha. We’ve had our share of fireworks, for sure. 🙂

  3. Martha Orlando says

    February 10, 2016 at 3:50 pm

    Aw, this was such a beautiful story, Sandy. I loved your contrast of the sweater that wore out and the relationship where the threads have only become more resilient over time. Blessings!

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 15, 2016 at 2:15 pm

      We’ve been blessed, I think. But it’s also been really hard work. 🙂

  4. Diana Trautwein says

    February 11, 2016 at 8:46 pm

    Love this the first time, love it now. Thanks for dusting.

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 15, 2016 at 2:16 pm

      Seems like I’m dusting lots of things these days. 😉

  5. Michele Morin says

    February 12, 2016 at 8:12 am

    Beautiful words – and who doesn’t need a glimpse of some Queen Anne’s Lace in February?

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 15, 2016 at 2:16 pm

      It’s almost spring. It’s almost spring. 🙂

  6. bluecottonmemory says

    February 13, 2016 at 6:03 pm

    Those teen challenges pull almost to the breaking point – don’t they! It’s the faith and hope and not giving up – on the teen and the marriage relationship when giving up deceptively seems so much easier! Poignant, hard place to be – and to have made it through!

    • Sandra Heska King says

      February 15, 2016 at 2:17 pm

      Those were hard years. Really hard. I said hard, right?

  7. Simply Darlene says

    February 20, 2016 at 1:56 am

    Pull a thread. Stretch a hole.

    Miss SHK, just get you a pair of scissors. ?

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