A Message From Paper
First, the irony of writing this in a blog post is not lost on me. Second, come a little closer if you can, and please pick up my hand and hold it lightly. In the event I don’t have hands, which I don’t, lightly grip one of my corners. Thank you.
I’m dying. And I have been dying, “very quietly” but with gathering steam, they say, for the past decade or so. It’s true, and I’m not afraid. Or, I’ve known so many kinds of fear that this almost comes as a relief. I realize that’s probably just me trying to sound brave, though. I’ve dreamed so often of fire, scissors, and rocks that I almost don’t know what to dream of now. A blank computer screen? A Kindle? Ah, I will for sure dream of Kindle, useful if not yet perfect device that she is. [Fat cow.] No, I didn’t say that. Well, yes, I did, but I didn’t mean it. Kindle is younger and smarter than I am, and may her reign be long and peaceful. Is she in the room? Kindle, try to learn from my mistakes.
For instance, I know I was responsible for a lot of human misery and animal suffering, with logging, factory work, and the rainforests being cut down. It’s not something I like to talk about, although I can admit it’s never sat well with me. Personally I hate animals — all of them, without exception, and especially insects — but some nice ones have been drawn on me over the years. (This one’s a recent personal favorite, among many.) I am genuinely sorry that so much pain came about from making me into catalogs and bills, of all things.
Speaking of which, the entire Paper Family is going down with the ship. Uncle Ticket, Cousin Bill, Father Notebook. Sisters Packing Container and Receipt will carry the [metaphorical!!] flame forward a few more years in their … papery old hands, but then they, too, will be left behind. All of us, gone.
It’s been a long, strange, and occasionally gruesome but more-often wonderful road. And, not that anyone’s asking, what I think I’ll cherish most is the memory of being covered with pen. The good, swift zip of a penpoint countered by the softness of a heel of a human hand. I’ll never forget it.
Thank you for telling me your most important thoughts. I did my best to never betray you.