There are wounded toys in the box that have not been attended to, like broken limbs, barely functioning batteries and buttons that can no longer focus.
Children avoid looking when they pass. Adults see only trash that not long ago was so important. We can’t always blame time. Time does its own thing, no matter what else is going on.
The sweeping hands of the clock are busy pushing schedules, changing hair color and adding more stairs than there once was. The toys stayed in the background, living their own lives. They stayed busy in pretend land, where time gets measured in meals.
But what of the box
that we pass and dare not look at? All
the bits we have left behind, blaming time for not being adequate, for running
out too soon. Relationships left
unrepaired, phone calls not returned and letters started that still lay folded
in the drawer.
1 comment:
🤔
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