I haven’t felt like myself lately, normally I feel pretty good, confident. I walk tall, keep my head up but for a while that was hard to do. It wasn’t a lack of confidence, or something going wrong in my life, I just didn’t feel right. And this wasn’t a few days, or even a few weeks but a few months. I couldn’t figure it out.

Then I realized it was my bad ass leather jacket. 10 pounds of thick black leather, cut in a simple style, not a biker coat but strong like one. The lining had gotten ripped and it was looking pretty grungy every time I opened the coat so I just stuck it in the closet and wore whatever coats were handy. A big bulky parka, a nice suede spring jacket, and while neither felt like me in the way the leather jacket did it was okay because the leather jacket was still there in the closet waiting for me. On our second anniversary my wife decided to get it fixed and sent it out for a new lining. And this was good. It needed to be done. But with the coat out of the house I felt ill at ease, like there was something missing and I didn’t know what it was. Two months of a nagging feeling that something was wrong.

And then finally the coat was finished, and I slipped it on, and I was me again. My shoulders went back, my head straightened up and it was right and it was good.

It’s odd how much a piece of clothing can affect the way you feel about yourself, and how others feel about you and I honestly would not have guessed I would be susceptible to that kind of feeling. Yet I am, I need my jacket to be me.

And no it’s not a security blanket.

Fine. It’s a security blanket.

You can call me Linus.