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Poof, And He Was Gone
For the past three years, he’s been my go-to guy.
Strong.
Lean.
Steady.
Easy to turn on.
The one who’s helped me block out the real world and immerse myself in one where I’m in total control.
He never seemed to care when I’d break for a conversation or to listen to a favorite song. Come to think of it, instead of getting huffy, he’d wait–patiently–until I was ready for him once again.
He was unusually low maintenance and extremely resilient—forgiving at times when he should have simply given up.
He accompanied me on trips to Washington D.C., New York, Wisconsin, Indiana, South Carolina, Florida, Kansas, ad nauseam. If he was tired of the traveling, he never let it show.
Until last weekend, that is.
Suddenly, my guy was gone. Poof. Finished. Kaput. He’d simply up and packed it in—reduced to a mere shell of his existence. Gone was his chutzpah, his always-up-for-the-task personality, his steadfast loyalty.
And me? I was left wondering if I’d been too hard on him. Expected too much. Taken him for granted one too many times. Neglected him in some horrific way.
Was there something I could have done differently? Some magic bullet that could have prevented this from happening? A pivotal clue I missed?
There was no tear-filled goodbye. No farewell sprawled across a post-it note. No passive-aggressive warning signs. There was simply nothing.
Except a gaping hole in my heart routine.
His name was Alphie. At least that’s what I called him.
He kept me focused on my writing during the early stages of a project—when distractions at home (a.k.a. the dreaded multi-times-a-day email check) threatened my mindset. I didn’t have to worry about charging his battery or shutting him down if someone called. He’d been dropped on a coffee shop floor yet sprang to life like nothing had ever happened, ready to get back to work at a moment’s notice.
Yet, for some reason, the security machine at Lambert International Airport proved too much for him last week. While the TSA was working to keep our skies safe, their machine was destroying my guy.
Why this time? This trip?
There I was, on a plane, flying over snow-covered fields, my fingers itching to work on the story I’d started the day before…my slaved-over opening paragraphs locked away inside Alphie’s heart vault.
I was lost. Still am, frankly.
But he’ll be back. I know he will. We’ve got a connection that won’t die. A pact of sorts.
So I wait while he makes a pit stop in Wisconsin to get his innards (which I’m hoping still include those golden paragraphs) tweaked and pampered.
And I spring to the window every time I hear the UPS truck outside. Is today the day? The moment we’ll be reunited?
I can only hope. Because I’m about three days away from a major pout-athon. And believe me, it won’t be pretty.
So how about you? What’s the one possession you’d be lost without?
~Laura (who hopes to have her hands all over Alphie by this time next week)
And the notes are always appreciated. They’re just my downfall that’s all…