Split Sarongs & Letting Go

My sarong tore today, after 14 years. It split, actually. I had tied it tightly around my hips, as I always do, since the weather was seriously hot and I prefer to wear nothing under. I walked out into our new back garden to hang the laundry, heavy basket balanced on one hip, and then carefully bent to set it down. Shlrrrrpppp. The tearing sound was impressive.

No!! Not this one! One of the last lovely soft cotton sarongs I had bought when I was pregnant with my daughter 14 years ago. I remember the day so clearly. My then Thai husband had taken me to the little morning market in his home town of Thung Saliam, in the district of Sukothai here in Thailand. He wanted me to wear the traditional sarongs that his mother and sister wore. "Traditional Thai" he said, very proudly.

"It's Balinese!" I said instantly. And we argued. Him refusing to even LOOK at the "Made in Bali" part of the design printed in close to the hemline. Since there was nothing else to buy, my belly was bulging uncomfortably, it was about 104F in the shade and his mother and sister would be impressed beyond words, I relented. I wore it (and the other 6 designs I bought that day) non stop throughout my pregnancy, and the nursing years afterward. I wore it proudly in the market one day, as an old Thai grandma yanked hard at it to see if I had mastered the art of tying it on, Thai style. I had, and she shot me a betel-stained fairly toothless grin and the market breathed a sigh of relief at being spared the sight of my uber white belly and my delicate white farang private parts. I wore it for painting, meditation, early morning tea and and a thousand hot afternoons. Literally.

Until today.

I felt an instant grief. A part of me, my life, my history, gone forever.

And then I laughed.

It had served it's purpose, admirably. Been all that one could ever want from a piece of cheap cotton. Is it worth repairing? No. The comfort of old soft cotton may feel familiar and easy against bare skin, but it does not have the strength or integrity for anything much anymore. Not even hanging out the clothes. Things DO pass and outlive their purpose. People do, too. The shock passes, and something or someone new comes to take its place. As it is meant to be. Tomorrow my sarong will be retired to cleaning cloths and a painting drop sheet.

Feeling grateful for things and people who have served their purpose well. Happy to release and accept that even the best things and relationships have their time, and come to an end. Grateful for the chance to choose a new sarong later this week, and that I will be enriched by new colours and patterns, none of which will diminish the colours, the patterns and the memories of this one.

All things pass. It feels nice to pause and be grateful, and reflect, and to focus on the love I give and share in my life, which is the only thing that will never end....

New colours and new designs are in my very near future.