A Different Expiration

The table shook as the door slammed shut. It is not your average table. No, this particular dining table is the literal and figurative center of the house. At any given time, it is covered with mail, books, dishes, toys, markers, or the odd pot or pan.

Today, I am the centerpiece, merely by accident of course. I was nestled up to a little boy’s arm, which was wrapped around a bowl and clutching a spoon, but he had to run off to catch the bus.

Alas, I am stuck. To my right is yesterday’s mail. To my left is a soiled bib. I am afraid to look behind me, as I thought I heard the cat jump up to smell what was going on. Ahead of me, oh, ahead of me, I can see my stainless steel home. Ah! I think the cat just licked my handle. There is only eight feet between me and my home. However, I am incapable of moving myself there, and there is no one responsible enough in the house to get me back there safely.

The little boy’s dad stumbles into the room. The cat runs in fear or surprise. The grownup still can’t seem to walk a straight path. He looks disheveled, as always, and he seems to smell bad as well. I am afraid if things don’t change for him or me we will meet the same fate - expiring sooner than we naturally would. The problem is, when we are both at our best - the man and me, that is - the boy really loves us, but when we are at our worst, we both bring sick feelings to the boy's stomach.

I pity humans. They don’t know which day will be their last. Some remember this daily and live accordingly. Others, like the grownup here, try to drown that thought from their mind. Household items like me have it easy. Our last day is printed on our packaging, but today, today, I am truly afraid. The little boy and his mom have taken good care of me. The little boy just had to leave in a hurry and forgot me for the first (and it looks like last) time.

Where do we go from here? What will this family be like after I am gone? Will the boy come home and see me on the table and cry? Will he go tell his dad what he did and then have his dad make fun of him in a good way? Perhaps they will share a smile or a laugh. It could be a turning point in the dad's life. Or will the boy's dad yell at him for being careless and cause their lives to spiral even more? My three week window into their life has been all too brief, and I wish I could do more. I am but a jug of milk. I will soon be a stinking liquid inside a plastic container.

The man takes a large drink of water and bumps into the table. I feel my insides shake uncomfortably. Then the man's eyes fall on my slender shape, and he picks me up, gentler than I ever guessed his hands could be. He walks me over to the refrigerator and places me on my shelf. Maybe things will be okay here after all.