Mom and I went through my closet of childhood memories. Every time I looked at yet another fluffy stuffed animal good for nothing but sitting around gathering dust I was struck with the faint feeling that I had fought my sister/cousin/friend/someone over that little collection of synthetic fibers shaped into a cuddly appearance. I wanted so badly (back in the day, mind you) to have possession of that little thing, whichever of the 15 things it happened to be... the little thing that I literally haven't thought of for one second in the past ten years. How can something that seemed to have so much significance be so utterly useless?
When I really face the facts, I realize, of course, that I took pride in owning a thing, in having something that others wanted, but making sure that it remained in my possession and others could only covet. And, unfortunately, I am also forced to face the fact that I still have this attitude about things, money, food, my time, whatever I could possibly claim to own. So I guess when I'm eighty, I'll look back on all the things that seem so immeasurably important to me now and realize that it was just a little pride-fit.
Am I starting to sound like a communist? I didn't really mean to, but I just heard some John Lennon song today about imagining no possessions... what a loon. Anyway, but I don't think the things are the problem; I know I'm the problem. Ha! and that's where you missed the mark, Mr. Lennon. So, even if I didn't have things, I'd find something to have that same attitude about so that ten years down the road I could look back at how frivolous my concerns were and cling that much more tightly to my currently unseen frivolous fascinations.
Well, here's to ten more years of personal growth and development.
1 comment:
yeah, you were always trying to steal all of the stuffed animals
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