My dog really loves me—so much that in her own special way, today, she reminded me of the impermanence of possessions.
She got into my coat closet and ate my favorite jacket.
Specifically, she ate all the parts of my jacket that smelled like me. It’s my fault for not ensuring the closet door was secured before I left the house to eat dinner with my daughter. But her lesson was not lost on me.
I loved that jacket. But jackets and things do not last. I found myself getting angry that it was destroyed, and I’d never make another memory while wearing it, but I had to pause and think about the silliness of that anger. Nothing lasts forever (no matter how well made and crafted its canvas wax and sherpa lining may be). Jackets, cars, magazines, and computers are here for a while, then gone. Here’s an even more sobering idea—even our memories don’t last. The eating-of-the-jacket experience helped me remember that I needed to let the jacket go. My anger was not useful. The lesson was invaluable.
Live now and let it go. Learn what you can from every experience.
Oh, and latch the closet door before you leave the house.