A Keeper

A Keeper

Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in cowboy boots, flannel shirt and a hat and Mom at the window, waiting for him to come in for lunch, dishtowel in her hand.

It was the time for fixing things. A curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep, often fixed with duct tape. It was a way of life, and sometimes it made the kids crazy. All that re-fixing, eating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more.But then my dad died, and on that cold fall night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any more. Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away...never to return.

So... While we have it... It's best we love it... And care for it.... And fix it when it's broken..... And heal it when it's sick.
This is true... For marriage.... And old cars.... And children who struggle with who they are and where they are going..... Dogs that have gone blind.... And aging parents.... And grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep. There are just some things that make life important, like people we know who are special.... And so, we keep them close!