Maggie Dee

A YELLOW HOODIE

My son recently asked for a new hoodie: a yellow hoodie, specifically. This is no big deal, unless you know my boy.

By the time the pandemic hit in 2020, my son's struggles at school were well under way. I was so grateful for his teacher that year, as she had graduated with his older brothers and understood his personality so well!

Grade 5 was less kind, and his mental health was in a pretty steep decline. I recognized it, but it was manageable - just something to keep an eye on. I was, however, excited when he asked to go shopping. If a pre-teen boy wants to go for a 90-minute drive and shop with his mama, she should just say yes! Even if it's going to mean the credit card takes a hit.

The hoodie he chose was a beautiful, sky-coloured print with the brand name boldly displayed across the chest. It matched his ocean blue eyes so well! Better yet, the store was running a "Buy One, Get One" special, which made the purchase feel less expensive.

He was almost giddily excited to wear his new hoodie to school! Sadly, on its very first wear, another child jumped in a mud puddle directly beside where my son was standing at recess. So violent was the jump that three separate stain removers did nothing to remove the mud and stains from that hoodie.

It took me far too long to notice that every new item of clothing my son requested was black. It didn't sink in until he had outgrown all of the pastel and brightly coloured items that he was suddenly wearing black or charcoal gray every day. Looking back, I realize the ruined sky-coloured hoodie was the turning point.

The mental decline started with wanting to stay home a lot. He was not ready for full days of socialization when the pandemic ended. When he was in school, I got frequent complaints from teachers of my son's head being down, often falling asleep in class. We had his iron levels checked, started melatonin to assist with proper sleep habits, and did all of the things responsible parents do.

At some point between grades five and seven, my son learned that he could just use his hoodies to hide. The hood went up as he boarded the bus, and came down upon arrival back at home. This continues to be the norm, and we are currently doing grade nine.

Following several years of struggle with both teachers and curriculum, this has been a stellar year for my son. A semi-hostile meeting with the school early in the year yielded unprecedented results: work completed in a timely manner, a good relationship between student and (most) teachers, and "Meeting Expectations" as a norm on his report card. I have even seen "Exemplary" - a first in all of his years of formal education!

He won't ask to go shopping any more. He will simply place a request for a specific item of clothing; how I get it, or determine if it will fit, is my problem. So his recent request of a yellow hoodie was not only surprising, but deeply satisfying. To me, it is a sign of improvement in his mental health. This brings my momma bear heart such joy!

The requested hoodie arrived in Friday's mail. It was no sooner in the house than it was on his body. I had to request it back yesterday (Sunday) so I could wash it. I threw it in the dryer before going to bed last night, satisfied that it would be ready for wear again this morning. When I arrived at the dryer to retrieve the clothes for folding this morning, the yellow hoodie was notably missing. Turns out, my boy heard the dryer buzz around 11 p.m. and ran for his new favorite item of clothing.

My boy asked for a yellow hoodie. And I haven't been this excited in a very. long. time.

My husband's Aunt Rosemary recently passed away. She was born into a large family, and grew up to marry a man she would love until her dying day, 53 years later.

Aunt Rosemary and her husband sang on the worship team at their small, East Coast Baptist Church. He was the only male member of the team, and as a result, was sometimes the victim of their humor.

At her funeral, he told the story of occasionally being asked for his opinion with regards to song selection, etc. Knowing the women would do what they wanted to, he would smile and start to sing, "She'll be comin' round the mountain when she comes..."

After one such event, Aunt Rosemary - who, prior to hearing this story, I had always believed was quiet and gentle - responded thoughtfully that she was going to rewrite the song. And rewrite it she did: every verse now with Christian lyrics.

At the end of her funeral, the worship team announced that they had a surprise. They were going to sing Aunt Rosemary's song. As they sang, the casket was rotated and slowly walked out of the church.

Imagine leaving your funeral to the tune of "She'll Be Comin' Round The Mountain"! I couldn't help chuckling.

Switching gears to my own family, my mother is in a care home with dementia, secondary to Alzheimer's. I had hoped it would bring out her softer side, but it seems to be highlighting the anger I have seen in her for years. Today's text messages have been full of demands, lies, and gaslighting.

Both of these stories give reason to pause: Who do I want to be at the end of my days?

I pray that my humor prevails to my very last breath. I pray that those I leave behind would have mostly softer memories of me. Nobody is perfect, and I will give my kids one million apologies if they need that to find peace before I die! But I hope they also remember the days of closed curtains, sleeping in, junk food and movies in our pajamas. I hope they remember board games and campfires and Santa visits and cheerleaders on benches at musical performances and sports games.

I hope that my coworkers remember witty whiteboard quotes and desk-dancing playlists. I hope there's a fight for my yoga ball and my window plants, and that our customers remember the humor built into training materials. I hope my boss says nobody ever sent him as much nonsense in Teams as I did, but that it made his roughest days easier.

Mostly, I hope I leave this world with "Hedgehog in the Fog" energy: the courage to try, and a light in the dark for those who come behind me.

🎵 Do you see what I see 🎵