dear rory,
why do we become attached to inanimate objects?
at the moment I am sitting in my camper. i spent some of the afternoon standing on top of it. scrubbing away the dirt. washing it clean. shining it up. making it glow under this unrelenting august sun.
we’re going to sell this beloved hunk of metal, plastic, wood, cloth, and three-year-old dead ladybugs. we're going to sell my camper.
this camper is just a product. there were hundreds of others made exactly like it, and now it is considered an old model. maybe even ancient. nothing special about it... right?
what this camper is made of isn’t special to me. it’s what made this camper special that is.
when i look out of the camper window right now, i don’t see my small backyard.
i see 6:30 a.m. somewhere in wisconsin. a few ambitious kids are gathered around a barren fire-pit, and in the distance someone is hauling a load of firewood in a wagon. i see matches and lighters and newspapers. a spark begins to catch. i see proud faces, toothy grins, and high-fives all around. i see the adults waking up and coming out of their campers. breakfast sizzles over the new-born flames. and after a day of running, biking, and swimming, i see millions of stars blanketed across the midnight sky.
when i close my eyes, i don’t hear my sister talking, my dog panting, or an airplane overhead.
i hear rain tapping on the canvas roof. i hear birds singing (it sounds like some of them are screaming, good heavens!). i hear people chatting and laughing around picnic tables. wood crackles and children cry out with delight at the sight of a toad. my friends are calling me to hurry up and get ready so we can bike to the lake.
why is it so hard to get rid of inanimate objects?
i tried explaining my sadness in losing those memories to my dad. he asked me if my mind would be wiped clean once the camper was sold.
i guess he's right in a way. the memories will always be there. even if the object of those memories is not.
am I sad that my camper is being sold? yes. will it be sad to watch the source of many memories be bought by some random stranger? yes.
but i’ve noticed something about happy memories... you can always make more if you want to.
make some happy memories with me?
much love,
muffin
Beautiful! My sentiments exactly
ReplyDeleteTaz
I <3 INANIMATE OBJECTS
ReplyDeleteI tell you I cried when we had to paint over my favorite paint-chip on my dresser. [okay. maybe I was a little younger. or maybe I was a LOT younger.]
but in all seriousness... I know how you feel. objects can carry so many memories laced in their old frames... it's sad to see them go. three cheers for memories that last a lifetime!
It doesn't feel right to be reading someone else's letters, but this is good and so true.
ReplyDeleteI only wish I wasn't so attached to inanimate objects. I would have a lot less junk then... I keep trying.
~Bree
This is why a 22-year-old named Faithian still has a gargantuan stuffed tiger on her bed (and always will...), why she hasn't removed a green paint drip from the nice old desk she inherited from her dad, and why there's a t-shirt that ceased to fit her long, long ago still hanging in a place of honor in her closet (I recall wearing it during a special hug from a person I'm kinda fond of).
ReplyDeleteSentimentality is a sort of specialty of mine. :)
- Me
I could be the random stranger who buys your camper, and then give it to you for your birthday!!!
ReplyDeleteOr I could at least take a picture of you in your camper so you can frame it and remember it forever. =]
I get that feeling every time I see one of the old houses I used to live in. Memories come flashing back, climbing over eachother and mixing me up inside. Then I walk out the door and in five minuets I've forgoten. Like I've never even lived there.
ReplyDeleteSorry! I guess this isn't a very nice comment.
Yeh! pictures are good, I think movies are even better.
<3 Tashi~