This morning while going through my old closet in my old bedroom in the old house I used to grow up in the old town I grew up in my mom pulled out a coat: my Letterman's jacket.

"You still want this?" She asks.

I look at it. I got it Sophomore year of high school when I made the Varsity diving and swim team. I got it to put my letter on it. A giant letter "C" that was sewed to the left breast of the green leather exterior. I got it so I could pin the medals I would win at local and state meets. I got it because that's what guys did at my high school. They wore jackets. They played sports. They walked around with giant "C's" on their chest.

I hated that coat.

"Eh... " I said while putting it on. It was two sizes too big and the second I saw it on me in the mirror I felt like I was fourteen and reeking of chlorine. I hated it. It wasn't me then and totally wasn't me now. "I don't think I have anything to do with it now."

My mom tells me to throw in on a pile and we can donate it. As she leaves my brother comes in eating a piece of toast. He sees me wearing the jacket, laughs and says: You're keeping that, right?

"No, why?"

"Dude, if some guy saw that in your closet at your apartment... all I'm say'n is Jock Fetish, duh bro."

He leaves my room crunching on his toast as I put the jacket in my suitcase.