Hey, Hermano
The bannister above our stairs is home to our broken clothes. Lonely garments linger there awaiting a two-minute zip on my sewing machine — collecting dust and, often, being outgrown.
I’d rather sew three new outfits than grab those wounded wearables and stitch their gaping rips.
As I sloppily sewed up a dog-bitten seam this morning, I wondered why.
Beyond the obvious — time crunch, procrastination and the excitement of building versus the fixing grind — I realized it’s that sometimes repair’s not what’s needed.
Much-loved items are either fine with their foibles or restored in emergency fixes between breakfast and school. They skip the bannister entirely.
Other items are damaged beyond — or made worse by — repair.
And those worn out items that wait forgotten on the railing would often otherwise be drawer-clutterers.
Eventually, it gets to me. And the dusty lingerers are tossed.
This year, 2010, saw the end of all four of our sibling relationships:
My absent brother remained so.
My “close” sister turned out to be a fair weather friend.
And our efforts to repair the long-damaged relationships with Mark’s two sisters just caused pain, confusion, combustion and, finally, renewed, widened rifts.
We’re heading into the new year with a clean bannister.
It feels fine.
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