Suzanna Parpos finds a T-shirt's meaning is more than skin deep

One song comprised the playlist on my morning commute to work. For 10.3 miles, Eminem and Rihanna’s, “Love the Way You Lie,” blared through the speakers of my Toyota Yaris. Depending on traffic, the song would play anywhere from five to 10 times, until I reached the school parking lot. At Williams Elementary, I stopped playing the CD. In the quiet, I briefly sat in my car, with its out-of-state plates, and softly spoke a prayer. With deeply, heartfelt gratitude, I made the sign of the cross and in the, “Amen,” the palm of my right hand gently came to rest on my chest and the purple Anemone printed in the center of my T-shirt.

I wore that floral graphic T-shirt in the way I listened to my morning commute’s playlist: On repeat. The latter was by choice; the former was by circumstance. The majority of my clothes were in a PODS box somewhere along the east coast, along with my guitar, a bedframe, Crate & Barrel flatware and dinner plates, a vacuum, a high chair, a bookcase, a crib, bath towels, a couch, blankets, a rocking chair … all the things stored in that container traveling 1,900 miles along the U.S. east coast were the replaceables of life.

For months, until the PODS box was delivered that late December afternoon, my wardrobe’s staple was the short-sleeved white T-shirt with purple floral detail my mother bought for me on our shopping trip to Ann Taylor LOFT days before the first day of school and my return to teaching.

The T-shirt wasn’t my usual style — typically I’m a plain-tee-basic-color (i.e. white, black, heather gray), not pink or purple — certainly not flowery-type-of girl. That Anemone changed me, at least for that fall season when I wore it on repeat to work — to the pumpkin patch — to the duck pond.

My son was far too young to judge or take note of the fact that his mother was wearing the same T-shirt. I tried to cover-up that fact to my co-workers; I tried to deflect the obvious by mixing up how I wore the T-shirt. One day, I’d loosely wrap a scarf around my neck to conceal the purple Anemone’s existence, so that from the backside, it looked like I was wearing a plain white T-shirt. Another day in that same work week, I’d bear the floral detail and pair the LOFT tee with a cardigan. It all sounds strange, or filthy, but even with the high frequency of wear, I washed the T-shirt in between every, single wear.

The floral graphic T-shirt got me through the months until the rest of my clothes and replaceables of life made their 1,900-mile journey home. The lightweight fabric effortlessly touched my skin, resting weightlessly on my heavy shoulders. The purple Anemone graphic was pretty, making me feel beautiful right along with it. From my limited vision, I struggled to see a pretty reflection but I felt it when I wore the T-shirt.

What I felt most when wearing the LOFT T-shirt is an immeasurable gratitude. I am a woman that has known hurt, struggle and loss but along with that, I have simultaneously known victory and true happiness in the dream of motherhood coming to fruition. I am a woman that believes in the strength and power of prayer, and I am a woman that knows how blessed I was to find the way to rise from the ruins.

I think somehow the Anemone symbolized that for me — the fact that something beautiful, like a rose or an Anemone, can grow from ruins. I think that is why on the shopping trip with my mother to the LOFT just days before starting my new job, I gravitated towards that floral graphic T-shirt. It wasn’t a typical T-shirt for me, but there was nothing typical about two kitchen-sized trash bags of belongings and starting over, again.

Suzanna Parpos is a single mom and writer that works in the field of special education. Her essays have appeared in the Sunday Boston Globe Magazine, Worcester Magazine and several other publications. Find her at:www.suzannaparpos.com.