Jun 26

Old Vs. New

New

Untouched, unbroken, unscathed, unwrinkled, unknown

Sparkly, shiny, crisp, and pressed

I remember how it was when I was younger—how I longed for the new.

New days, new years, new clothes, new toys, new books, new experiences, new music, new love.

I scoffed at a used shirt, or pre-owned dishes, at old books with worn covers, and old jewelry that had lost its sparkle.

An obsession with new and clean and perfect

It’s funny how much that has changed. How opposite I feel so much of the time now. Sure, I enjoy new things as much as any other person. . . but I find it funny that I long for the old.

The used-up, chipped, worn, dusty, and torn

The touched, broken, scathed, wrinkled, and known

I’d pick a worn book with a name written in it and musty pages over a crisp binding and untouched pages.

I know it’s been read and hated and loved

I’d pick up an old discarded set of plates with chips on the edges and a rubbed-off design over the squeaky clean finish of a dinner set straight from the store

I know it has sat at someone’s table . . . sometime, somewhere hearing laughter, fighting, crying.

And maybe it’s because I am older . . . okay, not really old, but I’m thirty-three . . . still young, but old enough to have my own chips, and dings, and rubbed-off surfaces, and wrinkled edges, and worn cover.

I am not shiny and new any more.

But I am known.

I am not unbroken, unmarked, or unused

But I am loved

I have scratches and scars and more wonderful memories than I can count

And I have stories to tell.

But we need new, I know this, because new holds it’s own magic

It hasn’t lived, or cried, or hurt, or broke, or laughed, or loved

. . . at least not yet.

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