Writing 101, Day Twenty: The Things We Treasure


Greeny has seen some rough days, including now as he is safely imprisoned in my coat closet. Atop the shelf of the closet near the front door he sits quietly and bored, protected from aimless dog weiners, curious felines, and filthy, grubby hands of L.T.I.H. (Understand that L.T.I.H. stands for Little Terror in the Home, you know, children!) Greeny has not been played with or talked to in at least 15 years, which makes me feel bad. Absolutely horrible, in fact. Greeny has been my best friend since before my slick tongue could form syllables accurately. He was there when my chubby legs were learning how to navigate the world, and my brain was beginning to learn sarcasm. Greeny defended me against sneaky shadows that crawled across the cement walls of my room, the ants that marched across wooden floor planks, and against any nightmare that was foolish enough to invade my slumber. He is the best! Yet, I have him hidden away, for an excusable good cause mind you. No excuse makes up for the poor treatment he has endured though. As adolescence crept up on me, I spoke to Greeny less and less. The trek to adulthood has been even worse for him. It is unfair, I know this. I just got selfish and absorbed with me. It’s no excuse, it’s truth. He may never forgive me but I do cherish him. I don’t let my best friend Blair play with him because I don’t want to take any chances of Greeny being harmed. I refuse to allow Rookie L.T.I.H. access to him because those wild animals are so unpredictable, no matter how initially “cute and sweet” which I have learned the most difficult of ways. Sometimes their strength is dumbfoundedly greater than expected. So is their rabid and relentless nature. What is worse, is that I am certain Greeny needs a cleaning, a thorough one at that. But I am afraid it may ruin his soft faux-fur. I want him to be immortalized so the future would know that the 80s were “the bomb” yet I don’t know how to go about it appropriately. So, he sits on a dusty shelf wishing I would talk to him again. He patiently awaits the return of my youthful spirit that has been tainted by existence as a mortal. To no fault of his of course. I know I don’t deserve any patience or love from my lifelong friend. I need to earn it. I am not conceited, but I am fairly certain Greeny misses me just as much as I miss him. I should take him down from the shelf sometimes, just to express my gratitude for years of defensive service and loyalty. I can make the excuse that I am practicing the way I will play with a future L.T.I.H. of my own. Man, I should not have to make up stories to spend time with a cherished friend. Fine! No excuses, me and my friend should get some drinks this weekend. It can happen, I’ve seen the movie with a teddy at the bar.

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