Letting It Go

Took long enough, didn't it?
Fifteen years these pure wool
business suits, the Harris tweeds,
the silk ties and pocket puffs, the
trousers and stiff-neck shirts hung
in neat formation, nicely coded for
instant and co-ordinated selection
have hung in your wardrobe.

Fifteen years, need I remind you,
since you yourself retired from
active involvement in the professional,
wage-earning workforce. No real
occasions since superannation to
trot them out, now, was there? A
casual, relaxed lifestyle; nine-to-eleven
replacing nine-to-five; simply
did not require them, did it?

So why the dilatory decision-making,
the irritating procrastination from
your fine mind? Padded shoulders
gathering dust seem so senseless. Wasted
storage room utterly without purpose.
Fond memories of other, seemingly
purposeful times, weighted with
profound meaning, merely an illusion.

The meaning of life and the pleasures
to be had still exist. Has it taken you
fifteen years to finally understand that
you are not measured by what you wear,
by what you were deeply engaged in to
earn a creditable living - but who you are
as an individual; a man, husband, father,
grandfather, gatherer-of-wisdom and
skilled perpetrator of art and artisanship?

Now, finally, have you accepted
yourself sans facade? I did, long ago.
Be assured, in the informality of our
retirement, what those suits represent
is entirely irrelevant. Know this: those
who matter esteem you for your inherent
value to their lives without which there
would remain a miserable void.