When I pull the olive-colored fleece over my head, I am transported back. The intense nostalgia wraps me up into a tight hug, and I feel safe. Of course, the tightness I’m feeling might be because my REI fleece—a constant companion over more than a decade—may be a size too small. I think it’s a little bit of both.
It brings me to a different moment every time I wear it—to a tent hidden in a stand of elms, to my mom’s garden and buckets of ripe tomatoes or to my youngest brother’s birthday in 2005. I hear the giddy screams of neighborhood kids pelted by water balloons. I’m crouched behind the bushes, and I barely glimpse my dad’s feet as he runs across the grass.
“Surprise!” I yell when he is close enough and hurl the slick ammunition toward his chest. Then I race to where our collection of sweatshirts, including my fleece, lies in a heap: home base. I clutch my fleece close to my chest, score a few lungfuls of air, then sprint off across the wet grass.
Years later, the cicadas begin their nightly chorus while the fireflies make their debut. “Mine will be best,” my brother announces while spinning a stick with a marshmallow over the fire. I don’t have the patience for this competition. I thrust mine into the flames, then peel off the blackened bit and smash the remaining goo between two graham crackers. I snuggle deeper into my fleece.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, I whisper to myself after I say goodbye to friends and family and board the plane. It’s my first international flight. I’ll be working in Japan for a summer, for a company that I know little about, in a place where I do not speak the language. I grip the sleeves of my familiar olive fleece and step off the plane. When I set up my new apartment with things to remind me of home—letters from friends, pictures of family, drawings from students—my favorite fleece hangs over my chair.
Since then, I’ve taught abroad in three other countries, including teaching in Bolivia and meeting students virtually, amid the pandemic. Even on the difficult days, bright, high-altitude sunshine and hopeful, eager students greet me on Zoom. I clutch my fleece close to my chest like it’s home base in a water balloon fight 19 years ago.
The beloved REI Co-op Trailsmith fleece has been retired, though its legacy continues with the REI Co-op Trailmade fleece, available at your local store or online. The camp-friendly Trailmade fleece jacket keeps you toasty on cold days and cozy beneath your shell jacket. This grab-and-go for warmth is made with 100% recycled polyester. Buy women’s. Buy men’s.
For more odes about our favorite stuff, check our Gear I Hold Dear series.
The post Gear I Hold Dear: My REI Co-op Fleece appeared first on Uncommon Path – An REI Co-op Publication.
