Have you ever found yourself looking at a random item or smelling a random scent and wondering why it reminds you of a deceased loved one? I mean, something truly random that your mind cannot seem to connect to a specific memory, yet for some unknown reason, it gives you goosebumps? Well, here's my story about the houndstooth pattern and why it's not just a pattern anymore...
It has been a little over 17 years since my parents died back when I was 10 years old. The older I get, the less I remember about my pre-orphanhood life. With time, my memories of my parents are slowly fading and this frightens me. I remember the pain of finding out my parents were dead and I remember the pain of growing up an orphan, but no matter how hard I try there are things about my parents that I just can't seem to recall. There are, however, random things that remind me of emotions attached to the essence of who my parents were as people. I know this may seem strange, but there are memories I feel are lodged in my heart and not my brain. Allow me to explain using the example of the houndstooth pattern.
About six or seven years ago, one of my very good friends bought me a pair of houndstooth pants. The moment I laid my eyes on the pair of pants I immediately thought of my mother and I felt my blood rush through my veins. I didn't know why the pattern made me feel the way it did. It made me feel my mother's presence inside my heart.
Ever since that day, every single time I see the houndstooth pattern, without fail, I think about my mom and I feel her presence. I do not have a specific memory of her wearing something with the houndstooth pattern on it, but there is something about the pattern that makes my mother's existence feel tangible (again, this may seem bizarre, but I don't know how else to describe the feeling).
I feel so drawn to the houndstooth pattern that I purchase clothing with that pattern any chance I get. In fact, just a few days ago I went shopping for a new black blazer for work but I ended up buying a houndstooth blazer instead. I just couldn't help myself. I've looked through the few photographs of my mother that I have, but I can't seem to find any houndstooth clothing in them. Perhaps I will never be able to pinpoint why I feel this way. That doesn't bother me at all. The feeling I get when I see the houndstooth pattern is priceless and I'll cherish that feeling forever.