Most things in life are recycled. Not those same things, but things that replace them. Here I am at 70, thinking more about my last things, than my first. This is the last car I intend to buy. This is the last computer. The last house, the last coffee maker, the last pair of jeans.
I am not trying to be grim. I am actually happy to own things that will last (no pun intended) me for the rest of my life. I still wear clothes from 20 years ago. Of course, they are my favorites. My computer, which I bought in the early 2000s, still greets me every morning, despite not having the ability to shield me from modern viruses or spamware. She introduced me to social media and saw me through strenuous times, helping me write every college essay. Some call her a dinosaur, but she continues to sing those few lovely opening notes as I awaken her in the morning. She holds all my important documents, musings, letters, family photos.
Recently I bought a new computer. With the help of wonderful family members, I was able to upload most of what my old computer holds. I am appreciative, but feel I am betraying her a little.
I keep the old girl running. I ease her off to sleep at night, only to awaken her in the morning with increasing creaks and groans. I have to click off all kinds of notifications warning of non-updates, non this, and non that.
I know how she likes to do things.
