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Parting ways wear on old friend
(by Barbara Christian - January 18, 2012)
WINDOW ON MAIN STREET, BY BARBARA CHRISTIAN
Parting ways wear on old friend
It's washed, out of the dryer, folded and put away. It should have been thrown away or used for rags, but I just can't do that to my old friend.
My faded, tattered, blue-flowered robe and I have been together a long time -- in sickness, a couple of major ones, and health. It's always been there, a cozy, constant comfort every morning of every day for years and years.
It's been with me so long I don't remember where I got it or when it came into my life. Was it a gift? Just can't recall.
But all good things must come to an end. I have a new robe. It's red plaid flannel and very nice. It has an intact tie sash too. The one that came with my old robe is long gone.
The new robe and I are in the process of bonding. It will take time to get to know each other. You laugh? Bonding with a piece of clothing? Ridiculous, you say? Not so fast, hecklers.
Our everyday helpmates, like robes, a pair of shoes, bag or briefcase, are so automatically there for us it's hard to remember they all required a period of adjustment.
My friend Bob gave his wife, Madelaine, a new purse for Christmas. Her old one was well worn and much loved, but the zipper was broken, and stuff kept falling out. It was a thoughtful gift on Bob's part.
Recently, Madelaine confided she has not yet switched the contents from her old bag to the new one. She said the new bag, while beautiful and roomy, is foreign to her, and she would miss the comfort, consistency and, yes, friendship, of her old purse. Besides, she didn't want to spend time bonding with the new one. She knew she could never make the "forever" switch.
And so Madelaine is thinking about taking her old bag to the local shoemaker to see if he can install a new zipper. It would solve the problem, and she would find a way to use the new bag, so Bob would know she appreciated the gesture and his gift.
Perhaps she could use it for special occasions when a purse is just for decoration and not for the kind of heavy-duty use required for everyday shopping and errand running. Or she thought it might make a decorative item for the hall table to hold incoming mail and bills.
It's funny how we become emotionally dependent upon inanimate objects like purses and robes. It's not just a female thing either. I've known men who have cried when their favorite Cleveland Browns sweatshirt finally hit the dustbin.
And who hasn't shed a tear for a favorite car we have had to give up. I still dream of our 1960-something black and white Karman Ghia rag-top sports car we had to sell when our family grew too large for the stylish two-seater.
And so my tattered old robe has seen its last trek down the driveway to retrieve the morning paper. It's joined me for our last leisurely cup of coffee on a Sunday morning.
I like to think it's not really out of my life, just enjoying a well-deserved retirement. It's in a drawer, because I didn't think it right to hang it on the bathroom hook next to its snazzy new red plaid flannel replacement. That would not be respectful. Nope. That would not be the right thing to do to an old and faithful friend.
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