THE ISOLATION JOURNALS - DAY 15 - BAD CONNECTION

Today’s prompt:

What’s the funniest thing that happened to you last year? Write a paragraph from the point of view of an inanimate object that bore witness to it. Could be your hat. Could be your wedding ring, a streetlamp or the plant in the corner of the bar. Use as much sensory/sensual language as possible to describe the memory from that object’s perspective.

Bad Connection

Hi Ann, it’s me, Ivanka. Can you hear me? The connection’s really bad.

I’m alone down here at the bottom of the Trader Joe’s bag. The bag that has Goodwill written on it in black Sharpie. What’s Goodwill, by the way?

The air smells strange. Like dirty laundry and car exhaust and wood shavings. I liked it better when I sat on your closet shelf between those cute Kate Spade kitten heels and soft suede Tod’s loafers. The scent of French lilac shelf liner and Bounce fabric softener always made me feel safe and snug.

It’s been almost a year since you took me off that shelf and put me into this bag. I’m not sure why. Did I do something wrong? If so, I’m really sorry.

We had so many fun times together, remember? That charity gala with Tyler Florence and the Slanted Door guy. You looked elegant in that Calvin Klein pale gray dress and matching bolero jacket. Or that women’s leadership conference where Michelle Obama spoke. You were classic in that Nanette Lepore navy boucle dress and pink pashmina. Or that college reunion where you were nervous about seeing your ex-boyfriend. You looked timeless in that vintage black silk sheath and strand of Mikimoto pearls.

Everyone always complimented you on how I provided a “pop of color.” That’s what you first noticed about me, remember? The bright magenta leather and shiny gold accents. Not to mention the stiletto heels. So different from the boring black pumps you used to favor before me.

Wherever we went together, people would say, “I love your boots!” I thought you loved me too. No, I know you loved me. We used to be BFFs – best footwear friends. But then something happened. Something changed. I just don’t know what.

I remember you were always a little embarrassed talking about me. I’d hear you tell people, “They’re actually by Ivanka Trump, can you believe it?” I figure you didn’t want to brag or make people feel bad about their ordinary shoes. I get it.

There was that one time when your boss asked about me, and you acted all weird and said, “Oh, I don’t know. I got them such a long time ago. They’re probably Nine West or something.”

Nine West? Seriously? Were you talking about me?

Now that I think about it, that was the last time I remember sitting on the shelf in your closet. Between my old pals Kate and Tod. The next day, I met Trader Joe.

I miss the smell of lilacs.