Monday, May 14, 2007

A decree of 40 days mourning

In my devastated state I cannot even wait to make it home to write this: my father, my dear, dear father, has sold my beloved softball glove. My own beautiful golden brown glove - cast away like some cheap tat. It did not deserve its fate, sold on some paltry 50-cent table of a yard sale, no doubt. I'm the one who wore it in by putting it under my pillow at night so it would cradle caught balls just so. I chewed on the leather straps just as some kid does today, oblivious to the former glory we shared. Would that little bugger who owns it now even care? I'm truly grieving - does anyone care? Goodbye esteemed glove - I very much loved you.


Blogger Zandra Towns said...

You should have taken the glove with you. Yes, it was a pretty and reliable glove. All the more reason you should have taken it with you!! Instead it wasted away in some dark closet or worse, the shed. My glove, that too big, loose fingered, dark brown monstrosity, is lost to the randomness of time and space. I donot mourn it. It is giving joy and frustration to the next young boy or girl. Or prehaps it is taking up space in the nearest landfill. It was a crap glove anyways.

Tuesday, 15 May 2007 at 16:11:00 BST  
Blogger Autumn said...

Yes, I should have taken it with me. Good advice! 
Let this be a lesson to all prospective/established parents: do not throw your kids' shit out - ever. Unless you want them to be totally broken people. I mean I cried real tears folks. Boo hooing and sobbing, for real. Thankfully my Boy never took the piss.
And you're right: that glove was shite.

Tuesday, 15 May 2007 at 18:10:00 BST  

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