the great race

Sometimes it is the smallest, most seemingly insignificant moments that bear witness to the passing of an epoch.

This morning, I was casually going through the pantry, getting rid of stale boxes of Cream of Wheat and expired cans of jellied cranberry sauce from 2005. I grabbed a big box of Cheerios and opened the top to see how much was left (not much)...and then I saw it. I slowly sat down on the linoleum floor and wept big, sad, silent tears...all by myself.

Nestled alongside the cereal bag at the bottom of the box, in a sealed plastic wrapper, was a little black and yellow toy race car. Untouched. Unfought over. Unstashed. Untreasured. No sticky little raccoon fingers had eagerly dug it out, with absolutely no intention of eating the accompanying grain hoops. No bickering had ensued over this small, 10 cent piece of plastic. No one had fought to the death to possess it, like the legendary Plastic Battles of days gone by.

It is mine now, this little toy race car. It will sit in a place of great honor on my desk...to remind me just how fast it all goes by.