My Old Coat.

Today I walked home and the temperature was in the low teens. It was officially bitingly cold. My ensemble included solid boots, thermal underwear (a.k.a. long johns), an undershirt, a sweater, a windbreak, and finally my old army coat. Of course I couldn’t forget my hat and gloves.

I had to thank God, because after two years in Florida I actually found my tolerance for cold had increased. My wife has a lot to do with that. It’s harder to stay warm when it’s just you, even when it’s in the fifties.

My old coat is old because I’ve had it for close to nine years. I don’t think I’ve managed to keep anything that long. I have either donated items or worn them out.

The dark blue is no longer so dark, and reminds me a bit of myself: weathered and a bit frayed here and there, but still functional and reliable.

I thought about what if I didn’t have this coat. Frankly, it’s my only coat. I would probably freeze to death. I would be another statistic of Mister Freeze.

I thanked God for a warm loving house to go to, and a warm woman waiting. I thanked God for the privilege of getting up way too early to a job that I love, because it uses the stuff in my brain that just yearns to be used.

Other coats have come and gone. All more flashy and all more expensive. This one was earned, and I couldn’t have bought it if I wanted to. Thank God for my old coat.