When one loses something they have been attached to, when something is taken away forever, it can be painful. When the Colts left Baltimore, loyal Baltimoreans wept and wailed and cursed. They threatened and pounded fists in the ground out of frustration and loss. To no avail.
When my dad took my basketball away from me when I was twelve because I had been slack in my chores (mowing the yard, cleaning the furnace, shoveling snow), I thought I would expire considering how much I loved shooting hoops. I eventually got the ball back, but I was by 32 then and pretty much out of the sport.
Recently, at the Carenen Cottage, something was taken away that had found its way into our hearts. We came to think of it as a permanent yard ornament because it had been there for weeks, even months. We grew to like it. The bright orange port-a-potty had become a source of relief for our visiting Clemson friends, a backup for me in times of urgent need when our indoor biffy was occupied by a female, and a beacon visible to aircraft 30,000 feet up to lead us home at the end of the day. It also served as a benefit to the various men working to build the addition to our cottage, much better than hunkering down in the woods and watching out for copperheads and fire ants.
The positive that comes out of this loss is a bit difficult to identify. Oh, sure, it means we now have a functioning second bathroom. And certainly, it means the construction is coming to a close. Good things. But now I'm wondering, how are we going to find our way home?
