Hand-Me-Down Heaven

It's a weekday morning in early fall, and it looks like psychedelic fairies just threw up in my living room.

I guess it's right now, as the summer warmth give way to the crispness of fall, that mothers everywhere are sorting clothes. As I go through my daughter's dresser drawers, I longingly look at each item, remembering the ill-fated sundress that never recovered from the cherry-red popsicle—sadly, that will go in the rag pile—then smelling the faint smell of chlorine on the sunshine-yellow bathing suit with ruffles. A mother's heart breaks at the letting go of each little article of clothing, because it symbolizes the relentless forward march of time, and the irretrievable nature of childhood.

But just as soon as I drop off a donation to the local thrift shop, or give a bag of little dresses to a friend whose daughter will fit them, I'll get a call from a mother in my neighborhood. Her voice will be tentative, as if she realizes she is at risk of offending me.

"I have some hand-me-downs. Would you—could you use them?"

There is always a little bit of embarrassment in the voice of the mother offering hand-me-downs. I guess to the giver, it sounds like, "Do you want my leftovers? My garbage?" But to me, the receiver, I hear, "Do you want some nice, gently-used clothes for free, thus saving you loads of cash and time spent shopping in busy department stores with screaming children in tow?"

Uh, yes. The answer is always YES.

Hand-me-downs are magical. They are a hug from the giver. They are an homage to the "big kid" who has given them up. It is like a huge present of brightly colored fragments of rainbow.

My daughter is delighted with our latest gift of hand-me-downs. She will spend all afternoon seeing if the Tinkerbell shirt goes with the ruffled skirt; she may toy with the idea of striped pants with a flowered shirt; she squeals at the sight of the jammies covered in princesses.

When the Mommy drops off the bag of hand-me-downs, and I take them, I never hide my delight. I want her to know there is no greater gift than what she has just given me. And between us is the unspoken understanding that I will pay the favor forward, handing on the gently used hand-me-downs to the next mother, and the next, and the next. We will keep the clothes moving in that synergistic circle of hand-me-down heaven.