I had a specific bandana in mind for today, a plain black one. As I rooted around in my bathroom cabinet where I keep them, I discovered they’ve migrated from one pile into many, hidden in with washcloths and hand towels, stray lipstick tubes in colors that don’t flatter me but are kept to write notes on mirrors, behind the rubbing alcohol, the tiny plastic treasure chests with the kids’ baby teeth, and so on.
As I pulled them out by handfuls and crowed with delight, “ohh, I forgot I had this one,” and “I didn’t even remember that I had a dark purple one,” I realized I have a whole bunch of bandanas. This is what happens when you work at camp.
They’re so useful, beyond tamping down unruly hair. We’ve tied them around luggage handles when flying for faster baggage claim identification. Maybe that’s where my black one is hiding. I’m sure, God forbid, they make excellent tourniquets. I tied all of mine together, called it the Magic Snake, and had toddlers hold onto the knots to keep a group together.
I seemed to remember that I also owned a white one at some point. Do you think I could find that one either? I think they’ve run off together to cause havoc in someone else’s bathroom cabinet.
I guess dark blue it is.
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