First there were the jackets. A vintage Levi’s jacket that my mother still perceives as royal-hued denim, despite how it has faded. The leather label on the inside back, between the shoulder blades, having long since been blasted through, the brand is legible in the rivets down the front and at the cuffs, undisturbed after nearly forty years of wear. The cuffs themselves hang suspended by threads; unfolded, the denim is darker, preserved. My mom…