A couple of days ago I wore one of my grandpa's old shirts. I have some shirts, and a few sweaters. They are not the most up to date in style or anything like that, but I like them. Some are a little snug. The one I wore still had a familiar smell. Maybe it's the fabric, or the detergent, or me just wanting it to have some lasting quality that can bring back a memory. I'm glad my grandma let me have some of his things. I don't call her enough. I never did call them enough.