THE CENTREPIECE.
When she bought me I wondered if it
was purely because the price tag was greatly reduced.
I had been left out in the rain, in
the yard of the co-op, for what seemed like weeks. It had only been a few days,
over a holiday weekend, but the damage was done.
Howie, the boss’s son was at fault,
but hey, he was just a kid, that’s what his mom always said coming to his
defence; and the boss always shrugged as he shook his head in
disappointment.
I wasn’t the only one being
forgotten, but on this day, I was the only one being scrutinized. The woman
grabbed my handles and moved me back and forth. She kicked my tire, and
sighed.
“John,” she said to the man standing
off to one side trying to avoid me as I was jostled from side to side, “the
tire looks flat already. Do you think it has a hole?”
“Nah, it just needs air.”
Well, I was relieved to know that all
that was standing between me and a new home was some air. If I could breathe I
think I would have taken in a long breath and slowly exhaled. But all I could
do was stand there now that she had let go of me and watch as she slowly made
her way around me eyeing the visible rust.
“The rust won’t be a problem, it’ll
get rustier with what we’re doing,” she said to the fellow that still seemed
weary of getting in my way. If I had feelings I think I might not have liked
him very much, he seemed rather indifferent – not sure if it was toward me, or
toward her. And, feelings or not, I liked her.
Once in the back of their truck I
bounced about as we made our way somewhere; somewhere other than where Howie
would be and that could only be good.
Their yard needed work, and I could
see right away what my job would be after my tire got air – I would be hauling
loads of old bricks from what was once a chimney to what looked like a garden.
The bricks chipped away at my
beautiful red finish leaving even more bare metal exposed to the elements. Yes,
I was left outside; now that I belonged to someone I knew that would be my fate.
Finally, the last brick was placed
around the newly planted flowerbed and I was given my first long cold rinse.
Ah, how I loved feeling clean. But what did I look like, I wondered, how badly
had I been damaged? I had felt the dents, the scratches, and even the harsh
bangs as I was put through my paces. That was my job, so who was I to complain.
But I did wonder, why paint me and make me look so good only to take it all
away?
The sun beat down on me and I dried
up to a point where the remaining paint started to flake. Next came a rough
brushing followed by suction. Not sure what was going on, but I loved all the
attention. I was being cared for and I liked that feeling.
Days passed while I was left in the
blazing sun.
Alas, a day came when I was wheeled
into a shed, it was dark, and if I dare say, a little dank and musty. I really
wanted to be outside – oh the irony; you see, I had gotten used to the weather
and its company.
Something tickled me, all over, it
was cool, slightly sticky. I felt fresh, new, as if I was young again, right
out of the factory. Wonderful feeling indeed.
A few more days passed before I was
wheeled outside and placed right in the centre of the flowerbed. I was covered
in a cloth, heavy rocks were added, next came dirt. I wondered what was going
on – where would I be taking this load?
The cloth was trimmed, flowers were
added and positioned. How strange that such care was taken with this load. I
was confused.
Suddenly, I heard her exclaim, “John,
it looks amazing, that wheelbarrow worked hard helping us make this garden look
so beautiful. It’s the perfect centrepiece.”
Word Count 710
NCCO
I decided to participate in this writing challenge - I got the idea from
DG Hudson, a blogger I follow - she posted for the last one and I really enjoyed reading her piece
The Jewel Box of Mystery.
WRITE...EDIT...PUBLISH is the website hosting these challenges.
Thank you for stopping by, I hope you enjoyed
The Centrepiece.
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