Open Writing

I heard them talking. My old frame trembled with humiliation.

I said nothing, but brooded for days. So! After forty years' faithful service I was to be tossed to the scrap heap! Yet I'd loyally served this family and theirs before them.

For several days now, people had been coming and going. I tried not to worry, although I accepted the end was near.

Beside me the dogs sprawled lazily in the sun. From where I stood in the shade of the lovely old willow tree I could see the cows grazing on the slope.

I admired the garden with its masses of rhododendrons—blue, pink and purple. Another corner glowed with yellow roses and scarlet dahlias. Over the years my contributions had helped create their beauty.

I'd watched all this develop—but never intruded. I'd seen the children grow from babies, and couldn't remember a time when they didn't run to me for comfort. Aye, the grown-ups too, and they'd leave, sighing with relief after visiting me.

Now the children are all grown up and married, and they look at me rather pityingly. They don't encourage their children to visit me as they did. Visitors give me a patronising smile. Only the boss and his wife remained loyal. And now . . .

It was enough to break my tough old heart! It's hard to adapt to changes at my age. Why couldn't they let me stay and end my days in dignity?

Depression sapped me, causing me to sag even further. How could they forget all I had done for them? I admit, I had my moments. In earlier days they would often get tipsy and I would take a perverse delight in observing party guests coming to me then sneaking uncomfortably away. They thought I never noticed, but I knew my place and kept silent.

Then came that fateful day. Heavy footsteps sounded outside.

Bang! Bang! Bang! I shook violently. The moment had come.

Bang! Bang! Bang! I collapsed to the ground in a pathetic heap.

I heard the old boss's callous words.

"That old loo was an eyesore. Good riddance to it."