The Closet

The outfit was out of style. It had languished in the closet for nearly 30 years. She pulled it off the rod and held it up. The elastic in the waist of the slacks crackled. Why was this still lurking in her life? She wadded it up and put it in the trash. An equally old outfit next to it went in the sack to donate. The too small raincoat went in the sack.

How long had it been since she’d gone through her closet? Since the beginning of time, apparently. She stared at the items still hanging there and swept them all up, dumped them all in the donate sack.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “the closet.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

5 thoughts on “The Closet”

  1. It all started when I said “I need a reading chair in my office”. The next thing I knew, I was getting rid of things I hadn’t used in years. I got rid of old hand-me-down furnishings and bought new, smaller storage units and a book case. I shopped at the Container Store for boxes to organize the stuff in the closet. A new lamp is being delivered today and a painter is coming later this month.

    A maroon recliner now sits in the corner by the window looking pretty pleased with itself for causing all this commotion.

  2. The closet in the spare room needed to be organized and Karine knew she had put it off long enough. She decided it was time to tackle the task once and for all. She had made three neat piles of items that were to be kept, donated or discarded and was happy to see that there were more things to discard than to keep.

    Halfway into the task, Karine came across photo albums that had been neatly packed in a spacious plastic container, so she decided to take a break, sit down and look at some of the pictures. She started with the album that contained pictures of her childhood years—black and white prints that painted the timeline of one of the happiest times of her life. Then she continued flipping through pages of another album. This one was loaded with photos of her college years—those care-free days of hanging out with good friends, making sure you crashed most of the happening parties and “booking it hard” so in the end, your ultimate prize would be the sweet feel of that sheepskin in your hand.

    Lastly, she came upon her wedding album and hesitated on opening this one—it had been a beautiful time in her life that had ended too soon—for all she had now were memories of her nine year marriage that abruptly ended when fate stepped in with other plans for her first husband. She placed this album at the bottom of the container and replaced the other two on top, then pushed the plastic container to the back of the closet.

  3. My grandson turned 15 and decided he was ready to come out of the closet. He wasn’t at all shy about it, either. He walked in, home from school one day, and announced to his mother and me that he was gay. We were both overjoyed for him and hugged him and said we would give him all the encouragement we could. He said he had a crush on a boy in school, and that he thought the boy might also have some feelings towards him. I said, now don’t let the other kids bully you about this, you might want to keep it a little quiet around school. He said things have changed since I went to high school. He had joined the LGBT club on campus and it was actually kind of cool to be gay now. All the girls wanted to be his friend now. This made him extremely popular all of a sudden.

  4. There were clothes everywhere. Dresses worn,crumpled up and stuffed in any which way. Some stank of the perfume worn last summer. Socks, their tongues sticking out, hanging from the shelves. Some paper backs and files of yellowing paper lay buried deep beneath all that fabric. Questions assailed her. At what age does a child begin to arrange her stuff properly? Was she too soft on her kids?
    She sighed.
    Justin bieber stared down at her from the door, so did some kid from One Direction. Large words in red marker declared from the posters, in her daughter’s hand , ‘I love you’.
    Wonder whom she meant? The pop-stars or me?
    She thought as she bend down to pick up a stray underwear. Closet arranging was so difficult for her.

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