Jeff looked at the cracked mug he found among his father’s possessions after the funeral. He recalled how its glaze brought to his mind calm waters under a blue sky when he saw his father drinking from it.
Wondering why his father had not thrown it away as useless junk long ago Jeff took the mug home and set it on his desk to hold pens. Decades later that’s more or less where it still sat charged with the duty of caring for odds and ends.
As Jeff reached his own last days he explicitly put the mug on a list of items that his son would inherit with an explanation that although the mug no longer served its original purpose it was something his grandfather drank from. Besides, it still made a great place to put pens and it had a beautiful glaze like calm waters under a blue sky.
Denise offers the word “junk” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.
When I think of junk I think of the junkyard of Gehenna and the yearning that we, broken as we are, should all have to be saved, salvaged, born again, so we may be found useful once more.