I must have been 13. A relative was in the hospital. I wanted to visit but the hospital had rules. No one under 16 was permitted to visit.
It wasn’t just a relative. It was my mother.
My father offered some advice. Let me share it with you. “Look like you belong.”
So I got dressed in my finery (it wasn’t such finery) and walked into the hospital with my father. I made sure my posture was perfect. I exuded confidence. I got to see my mother.
Maybe that’s why I take such pleasure putting on my finery (now it’s finery), throwing on the accessories, making sure there are no coffee spots on my white shirts.
I never question if I belong.