Dear Money:
Our adversarial relationship continues. I’ve never seen much of you and, frankly, when you did pop by for a visit, it was never an extended stay. But I could always count on seeing *just enough* of you to get by, and sometimes, you stayed a wee bit longer than you intended so that we could have a few extra laughs.
But lately, you’re on strike. Where did you go? When are you planning to come around again? Do you know that I’ve been hunting you down everywhere and can’t find a trace of you? I may not be here when you get back — how will you know where to find me? Again, I’m not asking you to move in with me — you know how commitment-phobic I am. But I do promise to cherish you more and not let your presence go unnoticed. I will focus more on quality and not quantity. I will promise to ensure that I am happy to simply have shelter rather than concerning myself with how many items are beautifying said shelter. Most of that stuff is for sale, now, anyway, in aspiration of keeping said roof intact.
(Aside to John: my apologies, as you have heard the rest of this before.)
Money, your disappearance has been sobering, and that means any decisions I make are not to be taken lightly because the repercussions to the wrong decisions are that much harder to undo. But my optimism that the sun will someday shine again can’t be killed off completely. It’s hard to sit here in my disquieted state and even entertain the thought that someday, I will experience more than two or three consecutive happy moments. But no matter how much you are boycotting arriving in my bank account, Money, I need you to know that this seed of hope of seeing you again has to reign, or else I will wither. And I have more important things to accomplish in this life than paying the rent, although that would be nice right now, too.
I liken my death grip on hope to the fact that I don’t necessarily have a green thumb, but I can’t kill my plants for anything. I haven’t watered them in over a month, and the happy green leaves still greet me every day, imploring, “Maybe today will be the day you give us nourishment?” And I neglect them, waiting for when I feel like it. Maybe that’s what you’re doing to me right now. Maybe it knows we’re fading but doesn’t throw us a cracker until we’re about to pass out. But maybe that only means that one day, I and everyone else like me will have the whole dinner to nourish us, turkey and trimmings and all. And maybe we’ll savor every bite, every moment, every crumb, because we will never forget the bitter taste of having nothing at all.
In the meantime, I am going to go water my plants, because I like seeing them green and because that means I will recognize you when I see you again. Don’t be a stranger, mmm kay?
On iTunes: Milk Inc., “The Sun Always Shines on TV”