Through every adventure she’s been there by my side

across states, or just for scenic walks to the park.

A blanket when I went to watch the fireworks from the hill behind my house,

watching as they light up the night sky a myriad of stunning colors.

A makeshift pillow when I fell asleep learning chemical formulas.

Huddling into her soft interior as I walk home from school,

shivering against the snow as it melts into the soft sleeves,

using her as shade when rays of light beam down like a desert sun,

and racing across town under her cover when sheets of rain crash down.

Pulling up her hood to hide from the world when it’s all too much.

Carefully sewing the patches I bought in Manhattan onto the right sleeve.

The art supplies I store inside her left pocket at all times,

pulling sharpies out of the pocket when I need a distraction.

A bit worn with age and use, frayed and patched,

repaired and cherished.

The color she’s named for a bit faded, but not dull.

Through the countless times I’ve accidently slammed her in the car door,

snagged her on fences and doorknobs, and covered her in mud

She’s been there.

To keep me warm and safe, happy and comfortable.

For everyday of every year since the day I pulled her from a sales rack.

She might be a plain, oversized, maroon hoodie,

she wasn’t special or expensive but to me that doesn’t matter.

The price of an object doesn’t dictate its value,

Red is worth more than any precious jewels,

She has something far more important,

Memories