They were a thrift shop find, my jeans. They fit me perfectly. They hit just above my waist and were long enough that I could cuff them if I wanted to, or leave them as is. They were not too skinny, nor were they too loose. I could run in them, lounge in them, actually sit down in them. They had no rips, or stains, and looked perfect with the crewnecks and Air Force Ones I was accustomed to wearing on rotation every day. Every time I wore those jeans, I felt like I was in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. 

Alongside those jeans, I had my favorite sweatpants. I’d gotten them at a thrift store as well, and they looked brand new. They were a dark, heathered gray, with the words “Boston University” printed on the right side in red block letters. Over the summer, I wore them almost every day. When the school year came around, I would change into them immediately when I got home, craving something comfortable in comparison to my rough jean shorts. Those BU sweatpants fit me better than any other sweatpants I have ever had the pleasure of owning. 

Now, however, both of my treasured pants are gone. I should have known that something so wonderful would only be fleeting. I have searched my house from top to bottom for both of them. My treasured BU sweatpants, where could they have gone? I haven’t seen them in months, yet sometimes I still dig through my closet, hoping that I had missed them when looking before, that they would somehow emerge from that void of blackness that they must have disappeared into. I do the same with my jeans, digging through my brother’s drawers, hoping desperately that they had gotten mixed up with theirs. But, alas, neither of my glorious pants have ever been found. And so I write this post in memory of both of them. 

They were good pants, great pants even. I will have other pants in my life, but none as versatile, none as well-fitted. Other people owned them before me, and maybe other people will own them again, wherever they have gone. Perhaps they will materialize someday, through some kind of divine act. Maybe one day I will be switching the laundry, and there they will be, waiting patiently for me. For now, however, they are lost. All I can do is thank them for their willingness to be overworn and overloved. I am so lucky to have found them and to have owned them. Goodbye, my beloved BU sweatpants and gorgeous blue jeans, goodbye.