Wednesday, April 25, 2018

#462 Dear John

I couldn't resist a good photo op!

Dear John,

The time has come for me to say goodbye.  You have been a good companion to me for these past 18 ½ years.  Although I’m not sure of your age, since you were already a part of my home when I arrived.   

We’ve been through a lot together.  Yours is one of the longest relationships I’ve ever had, and you know me better than probably anyone.  You provided me many moments of relief, along with moments of cool comfort after the occasional violent upheavals.  You started to show some signs of age on your shiny façade.  I overlooked that, as I am showing some signs as well.  What bolstered my decision is that your effectiveness had fallen off.  I tried to get you help, but after the plumber recommended your eventual replacement, I felt it was time. 

I appreciate that you were gracious in your exit.  You didn’t put up a fight.  Your replacement looks and acts similar, but is stronger and, to my great delight, is a bit taller.  As we all know, I prefer taller companions. 

After saying farewell, I propped you up outside in the front yard (as east-siders sometimes do) to enjoy the warm, summer day, hoping someone else would see you and think you were a good fit for them.  Three young girls flirted with you for a bit, before pushing you over, shattering the top of your tank.  I’m very sorry about that.  I had no idea that would happen.  I sensed your anger when you bit my pinky finger as I picked up the pieces of your broken heart. 

Maybe I should have cried for you, as the little girl did who came back to sweep you up.  Or maybe her father’s disciplining words provoked her tears.  Nonetheless, there was sadness around your passing.  And along with the girl’s tears, there are now tiny droplets of my dried blood at the end of my driveway. 

I will miss you.  I still have hope you can be re-used or re-cycled.  If not, I wish you a quick and painless end.  You certainly served my end well. 


Tall Chick in the City

P.S.  It’s now three days later and you are still with me.  I never thought I would be that neighbor who has a toilet in their front yard for several days.  The Habitat for Humanity Re-Store said they could not use you because you are missing a tank cover.  (Picture me shaking my fist in disgust at the three little girls.)  Heavy trash pick-up is the third Monday of the month.  Strike two.  You are too heavy for me to carry back to the garage, so I must wait for assistance from a neighbor or a friend.  Or I may take a hammer to you and put your pieces in my trash bin.  I abhor violence so that is my last resort.  I appreciate your continued patience, and that of my neighbors. 

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