The Ghosts of Goodwill

I am a fan of thrift store shopping; it fits perfectly with the reduce, reuse, recycle thing. Tonight I was on a mission to purge my closet of forgotten and unwearable clothing, since in its current state I can't even find what I have. Much like I'm sure all of you, the things that are long forgotten are pushed in the back. That dress that never fit just right, those pants you promised you would fit in again (one day...) or that top you just can't bear to throw away, but you won't actually wear it either.

Three hangers from the back wall of my closet, there it was: my green shirt. It is so bizarre that I remember the complete life cycle of this shirt. I bought it at Cumberland Mall within the first few weeks of moving into my new Vinings apartment with two friends. I had just colored my hair red with blonde highlights, so the dark green color was perfect. I pulled it over my head in the Charlotte Russe fitting room - so expertly lit, rearranged my hair around my shoulders and stepped out for the group evaluation. After it was deemed an aesthetic success, I purchased my shirt, which instantly became my favorite garment.

I wore this shirt all the time, layered with different tanks and camisoles due to the extremely deep v-neck. I wore it shopping, I wore it to dinner, I wore it to parties and I wore it to class. The shirt made me feel confident. It perfectly accented my hair color and clung in all the right places. I bought this shirt at a time when I felt invincible. The world was mine for the taking.

I tried on that shirt tonight before tossing it in the Goodwill heap. It's a little more snug than I remember (due to the dryer, I'm sure *wink wink*) and the girl in the mirror is a lot different now. I have a husband, a house, a job and in a few months a college degree. And the world is still mind for the taking, just in a more directed way. My hair is no longer red and my life not nearly as carefree, but I am a stronger and more independent version of that Sarah. A version the old Sarah could not fathom.

Now the shirt is in donation pile in the corner of my room. The green top and its ghosts of my memories will go to sit on the racks until some other teenager or twenty-something takes it home. The next time I visit Goodwill I can't help but think of the ghosts attached to the racks of clothes.