Heart of Dixie says . . . Inanimate Love
“It’s just stuff.” That’s what we say when a house burns or a car wrecks. Thank goodness everyone is fine. The tornado took it all, but it was all just stuff anyway. And that’s true. We shouldn’t love inanimate things. Today my parents had to put down their dog who had pancreatic cancer, making today’s observation all the more trivial But I’m feeling it – quite strongly in fact – so I’m going to share.
I am comforted by my sofa, the Asian overtones that speak to my time in Hawai’i without knocking you down with a tropical theme. I am comforted by my little green chair in the corner. It didn’t look cute where it was before. It matches the sofa…it wanted to be near the sofa to realize it’s full cuteness potential. I look at these items that were in different places and are now brought together under one roof. They look so happy together. In fact they look like parts of me. The roof they are under is not mine. Yet they still comfort me.
And I long for my Mema’s dining room suite. It’s sitting in a basement covered with sheets. I want to display her red crystal goblets, but they are in a box in yet another basement. I want her piano – not because I play, but because it is part of me and of my blogging cuz, and of all of us, and it deserves to be preserved and loved. It is not in a place where it is loved, but it is sheltered from the elements, and for that I am grateful.
It’s just stuff. But it’s stuff that is part of me. If I lost it in a tornado like so many did last April right here in my own state, I would comfort myself that it’s just stuff. But looking at it makes me so happy. I feel complete. Kind of like I feel when I’m with my family. Kind of like I feel when I’m with my kids. Kind of like I feel when I’m with Southern Man. I appreciate him babysitting my furniture. It’s good to see it all together. I wonder if he realizes that his house is starting to look like my house?
Back to reality. Compared to the dog that has comforted you for years and years, furniture is so trivial, unless it belong to someone else – your mother or grandmother who comforted you as well. It’s trivial, but I believe that if we are honest with ourselves, we would find that there are inanimate loves that comfort us all.