Trying some writing today at ….

Today’s prompt:

Jeans. They can evoke so much emotion in us: the hot jeans we wear on a date, the skinny jeans we can finally fit into, mom jeans we vow never to wear, the comfy jeans we’ll never throw out.

The assignment this week is to write a piece – fiction or creative non-fiction – in which jeans play a prominent role. You can even write an ode if you’re so inclined.

Word limit is 600.

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Sweat drenched hands rubbed down the hips of the black wool skirt. The rough texture of the fabric of the skirt did little to absorb her emotion, but it was a subconscious effort that she did when she got nervous. She met her eyes in the mirror again and took stock of the facts.

The eyes were clear and bright. No longer red or swollen.

Darkened skin underneath the eyes had lightened and no longer drew her expression down.

A smile gently hovered as it always had. Although it had been lost for some time, the expression had found its way home.

Jutting upright, her chin was balanced high; instead of tucked against her chest as it had been.

Shoulders that had been hunched and sported someone else’s arms to give them a hug of support, were now capable of being straight with no help from others.

Regardless of what anyone said; it was time.

Wiping her hands one last time on the scratchy black fabric, she snagged the zipper and yanked it down. Slipping the skirt off and kicking it to the side with her foot, she reached behind her and grabbed the pair of jeans lying on the foot of the bed. She managed to grind her heel in the skirt on the floor one last time to show her disdain for all it symbolized.

Her fingers caressed the worn and softened fabric as she instantly put her cheek to the old pair of jeans. She felt tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes, but these tears were warming.
Rather than the tears of despair of the past few months; these were tears of welcoming a friend back.

The faded jeans in the perfect shade of loved blue had been a constant. When nothing else seemed right and nothing seemed to fit; the jeans were always waiting in their faithfulness. Enduring through seasons and comforting the soul with familiarity. Her hands, dry now, rubbed the denim and her spirit connected with the freedom the fabric symbolized for her. Freedom to live as she wanted to.

Too long for her, but not long enough for some; she had donned the black dresses. The black had personified her heart. Dark and hopeless.The coarse fabric she had chosen seemed perfect as it scratched her skin, much like the way that life had become abrasive. It had seem right at first and they had fit her well, but now the jeans were beckoning her to return to their friendship.

She took one last withering look at the black garment lying in the floor and thrust her legs into the jeans.

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