The Umbrella

The umbrella hung on the back of my office door for nearly 3 years. Broken. 

It was thrown away recently, and whether it was by accident or on purpose, I try not to speculate or hold a grudge.

This umbrella came into my life on Sept. 26, 2005. My birthday. It wasn’t a gift. No. It was carried by that evening by my would-be-husband.

We met that evening at a coffee shop just around the corner from my apartment. It was our second date and it was pouring rain. We were nervous and cigarettes seemed to ease the anxiety, so for a few hours we frequently went outside and huddled together under the umbrella for a drag.

The coffee date came to a close when we noticed employees coming outside to stack the patio furniture. We then packed up our things (umbrella included) and trotted off down the street where we parted ways behind my building. We may have hugged. I don’t recall exactly . What I do remember is telling my mother on the phone later that evening that it was the best birthday ever.

Call me a sentimental fool but I’m pretty bummed about that umbrella.

Note: In May 2006, we ran away and got married and then finally, in 2011, we kicked the cigarettes for good. 


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