One Can Only Hope
Dec 7 2021
I hope it can be fixed.
Because I struggle with change
in general.
Because the old stuff was better,
built to last
not obsolescence.
And because it was simpler, as well;
a few basic knobs,
all analogue, no electronics.
But mostly because
there is too much waste in the world;
used once, then tossed away.
The white enamel finish
still shines
and barely has a scratch.
I could only have hoped
to have lasted so long
yet kept my looks.
A load of laundry, of course
is hardly rocket science.
A dutiful wash, rinse, spin,
clicking through its cycle
reliably every time;
then sitting quiet
in its basement corner
until the next wash day.
I can only hope
to be so unassuming,
as competent
in such a modest way.
I am also analogue
and not aging too badly.
At least I try to keep up
the regular basic maintenance,
although admittedly
some broken parts
have needed replacement.
I came, however, with no manufacturer's warranty.
And the older I get
the more unfortunate noises
I seem to emit.
Which can be somewhat embarrassing,
and I can only hope
will be politely ignored.
It would be impolitic
to comment on the newer models
by way of comparison,
the latest stuff
that now comes
in every style imaginable.
Yes, youth is enviable,
but I suspect not as robust
and somewhat prone to breakage,
hardly as content with waiting
as quietly and patiently
without needing to be noticed.
It's now in pieces on the floor
in need of a part.
Good as new, they promise, placing the order.
And how inspiring to hear
that after all these years
a fresh start
is even possible.
One can only hope
I say to myself
as I show him the door.
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