The Day My Life Began Again
A Royal 440 Typewriter's Story
When the girl who looked just like my Sarah opened my torn-up, dusty box, I thought I was being given the chance to be loved again. I knew by the sad, remembering smile on not-Sarah’s face that my old companion would not be joining me for any more adventures. Though this knowledge saddened me greatly, I couldn’t help but revel in the bright rays of morning sunlight. I dreamed of being cleaned and polished, my keys gleaming and ready to begin the first line of a new story. At least, that was my dream until I was replaced in a newer box and dropped off somewhere far from my familiar home.
When my box was finally re-opened, I wasn’t even give the time of day, merely put on a shelf surrounded by useless knick-knacks and other trinkets. A second coating of dust covered the first and I began to despair of my dream ever becoming reality. One day, however, my luck seemed to change. A young woman, even younger than not-Sarah, found me sitting behind a few candlesticks and was soon pulling out a man’s wallet from her pants pocket. She scooped me up and brought me home with her, giving me a place of honor in her already crowded room. At first I was happier than I had been in a very long time. I loved Anna, as my new companion was named, and she loved me. Gradually though, she forgot about me.
I began to gather a layer of dust once more as I sat sadly on her table, watching her day-by-day as she went about her life without me. She still showed me off occasionally to her friends and family, each agreeing that I was a terribly interesting machine. One of the other young women even looked upon me with longing, asking Anna where she had gotten such a beautiful machine. But still Anna did not embark upon any adventures with me. One day I could hear two voices coming up the hallway, chatting excitedly. The girl who had looked longingly at me burst into the room, picked me up gently, and carried me triumphantly out to her car.
The ride home was long, but my new companion draped a loving arm over me the entire trip to keep me from sliding. I have my very own spot on her desk now, right next to the new-fangled contraption called a computer. I try not to let it know how jealous I am that Christine spends more time typing on it than she does on me. When I start getting green I just remember one important thing –she loves me just the way I am.