Holding On

Holding On

My mother is not a pack rat.  She doesn’t generally hold on to things.  This means that there are very few paintings done by me as a kindergartener or essays from my high school years.

Her lack of hoarder tendencies, however, make me question why there are certain things she just refuses to throw out.

Used light bulbs, depleted batteries, and ballpoint pens which have run dry.

Just today, I went to put new batteries in a scale and saw that the “fresh” batteries were dead.  “How can they be dead,” I pondered, “I just pulled them out of the box.”

Of course, like all mysteries of the universe, with a little probing, I found that my mom thought the best place for old batteries was with the new ones.

“Really mom, why would you put them in the box with new things, it’s not like we put the cracked eggs back with the good eggs inside the carton,” I reasoned.

All I got was a smirk, and then she slinked away with a pencil holder full of pens, to figure out which ones actually still worked.


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