A beginning, as we've discussed before, is a delicate thing.
Way back in the dark ages when I was in high school I finally realised that I would need a wallet for real. I had been carrying one for a while at that point, but it was more because it was cool than for any real necessity. Come age 15 I was driving and therefore had a driver's license, an insurance card, and various and other sundries that I needed to keep handy, including very small amounts of cash and one very elderly condom, and I needed somewhere to carry them all.
I had to that point been given several wallets as gifts and had even bought a few, but never found one that I really liked, until I happened upon The Wallet. It was black nylon, and had a beautiful dark green tartan flannel liner. It was a regular bi-fold style with a velcro flap to close it up, and it held what I needed it to hold. Best of all, though, it conformed quickly to the shape of my hip pocket, which was the biggest hurdle. I don't like being uncomfortable, and had put aside many other styles in search of, come to find out, that black nylon job.
That wallet lasted me many a year. As the years progressed it grew to the perfect shape--slightly concave, just bent enough to fit around my hip bone when I sit, and it knew just where to ride in any pocket. It survived numerous washings, survived being rained on, survived being almost pledged into a fraternity in college, and has done everything but deflect a bullet.
I like my wallet.
But it finally tore. Threads had come loose, the velcro wasn't quite as clingy as it used to be, but last week, after literally decades of service, the nylon on it's front face wore through. Yes, that's an indicator of how often I throw things away--the NYLON WORE THROUGH. Bad news, retiring a wallet. Bad that I had to give up this friend of my life. Worse than a divorce, more stressful than a house fire, right up there with having your tongue hammered to a thin paste, I had to give up my boon companion, the friend closest to my arse. Fit me like a glove, had no more secrets, was as close to me as anything could be, and it was suddenly unusable.
I bought a new wallet this weekend. It's black leather, a bi-fold style, but it's not the same. It isn't hard-worn, isn't crushed and warped to shape. It's full of promise and hope, but it's not my wallet. It's a stressful time for me.
What's worse is that I'm due to receive my new pair of boots this week, the ones that are intended to replace my much-loved and much-torn pair of fifteen year old HiTek Magnums.
Saints and sinners preserve me.