The Saddest Aisle
Consider the Saddest Aisle, that mass of forlorn, abandoned baskets huddled together at the thrift store. In their puppy-eyed, earnest yearning they exude an almost hilarious melancholy.
And they long for a new home.
Before their exile- as they sat on a shelf or table- they absorbed the sloppy, hungry sounds of love, saw the startled, shocked silence of slapped children, heard recriminations and forgiveness, were buffeted by regret and hope, and felt moments of plenty and of want. They silently received and took into themselves everything that they were called upon to witness. They are the fragile vessels where memory persists.As a way of acknowledging whatever lives they might have seen, they deserve our attention and regard. They deserve redemption.
With my tongue only a little in my cheek I am trying to elevate and honor them in some sort of crafted apotheosis. Providing them with clouds and trumpets and putti to bear them aloft…..
towards the light.