I remember this plaid skirt, or rather, I remember 1 event surrounding it and the feelings this picture evokes. (That's my little sister, we were pretty cute!)
I lived in rural New Brunswick growing up in a teeny, tiny town called Hartland, home of the Longest Covered Bridge. Even today, the population is a whopping 947.
We were at the dump, I was between 8 to 9 years old, and the garbage at the dump was on fire. My dad was throwing our bags of garbage from the car onto the piles and one of the bags ripped open. And there it was. My skirt. My favourite plaid skirt that I LOVED. In the garbage, it wasn't on fire yet but what was it doing in the garbage!?
There were tears, there was a hissy fit and my dad saved the day and reclaimed my skirt from the burning garbage pile.
My mom was surprised when we got home, I don't think she realized the meaning the skirt had for me. Or maybe she just couldn't take my crazy pattern pairings any longer.
Seeing this picture and recalling the event has reminded me how I felt and that I need to respect my boys and their belongings. I will confess that I have snuck items into the garbage and donation bags when I have felt they have outlived their usefulness; but I won't do it again without their permission.
I don't have any memories of wearing the skirt again or whatever happened to it. But I did have good taste.