Dear Kohls Sweater

Dear Kohls Maroon-and-Tan Striped Sweater,

I am extremely disappointed in you. I saw you on the shelf that first balmy December afternoon, but I passed you up for a mint green-and-tan striped sweater instead. But I never forgot about you. I strolled in once or twice more, always keeping an eye out for you, but always opting for something else. I can understand you being upset about being passed over for the blue button-up shirt, the black-and-white zig-zag striped shirt, or even the mint green tank top with the crystal embellishments.

But there was no need to hold a grudge and then seek revenge the way you did. The truth is, I did purchase you, and I thought I'd saved the best for last. I wore you with pride. I thought we got along pretty well, you and I, especially when that teeny tiny dollop of ranch dressing happened to fall on you and you didn't stain. How was I supposed to know what was lingering underneath your cold, unforgiving surface? I tried my best. I tried to make it up to you. It was the holiday season, for goodness sake! The season of friendship and love and compassion, the one during which we should have built a lasting relationship. But we were only together for one short albeit memorable day before disaster struck.

I brought you home to meet my parents. I decided to clean you up a little bit first, and I think you should have been grateful for that. You would have received high compliments if you'd made it back upstairs. I even gave you your very own wash cycle. I thought the exclusivity would ease your mind a bit. I read the tag; I turned the water on cold and added the correct amount of detergent. But there was NO reason - none at all! - for what happened when I pulled you out of what should have been a glorious bath. No, instead, there you were, tans and maroons intertwined in all the wrong ways. If I'd wanted a tie-dyed sweater, I would have bought one. Or made it. But I didn't ask that of you. I didn't ask much, just that you retain your colors and shape so we could have reunited at some point in the near future.

I did everything for you. I picked you up when you were down - literally, down on the floor of Kohl's in a crumpled pile, in danger of being stepped on or rolled over with a grizzly shopping cart. I found you at your darkest hour, brought you home and brought you back to life. I didn't see the signs. I didn't know you'd self-destruct. I don't know who I'm more angry with, you or me. But one thing is for sure: I wish we'd never met.

Not fondly at all,
Kristina