The end of an era.
The beginning of a new one.
That was the text I sent my family on our family thread.
I sent them a picture as well so they would understand.

It was goodbye to the old trash can.
It was hello to the new one.
Getting a new trash can is not something that usually causes a stir.
However, in my case, I have been the holdout.

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The mantel clock was running slow.
The Monday morning winding was not lasting the whole week any longer.
The chimes were sounding sluggish.
I found myself saying, Come on, in my head, as if the chimes could hear me.

I had found a wonderful older gentleman who fixed my clocks.
He even came to our house to clean and service our grandfather’s clock.
He has retired.
I needed to find someone else.

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He had a full cart of groceries.
He was second in line.
The groceries of the woman who was first in line were still being scanned.
I noticed that the man in front of me was reading something on his phone.

Well, how about that? He said looking at me.
This government agency just had a steak and lobster dinner costing _____!
He did not seem too happy.
I wonder how many homeless people they invited? I asked.

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I saw the calendar on the wall.
I knew that it was THE calendar.
I knew it was her lifeline.
I knew it was her life mapped out.

I saw writing on every square.
I saw different colors everywhere.
I counted the colors, which were the same number as her children.
There was not an inch of space left.

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I used to have a cleaning day.
It was easy in our one bedroom apartment.
I could clean the whole apartment in an hour.
I knew it would be different when we bought our first house.

It was a four bedroom house, but there was only the two of us at the time.
Two quickly became three.
Three quickly became four.
I was able to clean the whole house in a few hours when my girls were napping.

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I was dusting in the family room.
I opened the armoire and dusted around the TV.
I dusted the top shelf that holds the DVD player and the cable box.
I saw it tucked way back in the corner.

It was our old video camera.
I cannot remember the last time we actually used it.
With the ability to take wonderful pictures and videos on our iPhone, it is not needed.
I made a mental note to ask my husband if we should donate it.

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He is a living Eeyore.
That is the way I categorized him.
I always said hello to him as he did the odd jobs around the grocery store.
He always said hello back.

He moves very slow.
There is no apparent physical reason he moves slow.
That just seems to be his way.
Everything he does is at a snail’s pace.

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I called an old friend.
Old has nothing to do with age.
Old has everything to do with the longevity of our friendship.
We grew up together.

There were seven of us girls all on one street.
Actually, one girl lived around the corner, but it was the same street to us.
We all went to school together.
We often played together in the neighborhood.

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I had a few jobs in high school.
I worked at a cheese shop.
I worked at a children’s clothes store.
It was not until I got a job at a bank that I really enjoyed what I was doing.

I loved the customers.
I loved the fast pace, especially on a Friday afternoon when paychecks were cashed.
I worked all through college and enjoyed the people I worked with each day.
As my wedding approached, my time at that bank came to a close.

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I sent something I had written to a woman I had listened to at a women’s social.
The woman was so interesting as she spoke.
She is a professor and a writer.
She sent me an email in response to my writing.

She was so encouraging in her response.
The piece I sent her blessed her heart.
One thing she said to me still lingers years later.
You are a poet, she said.

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