It’s an olden-day workhorse known as the early Apple laptop. It was owned and operated by Our Marta back in high school(?) and university. I do not own a laptop but the ones I see look to be light and fluffy as a banana cream pie. Our Marta, of course, would have none of that. She received hers when Steve and the gang were carving laptops out of marble. This one could second as a boat anchor or the keystone of a Roman bridge. As a sturdy piece of furniture it took a heavy beating by our daughter. How many anguished cries did we hear when she spilled another coke on it? How many thumps did it make when it slipped off her bed when she yanked on her sheets at night? How many bangs did we witness when she slammed it shut because she was late for school/work/church/dinner?
I miss those sights and sounds.
Her laptop became an early testing ground for her beliefs and decorating skills as illustrated by the stickers she adorned it with. I know that she is still a The Beatles fan. She practices politics, believes in the power of the vote and likes to hassle our governor though she lives out-of-state now. And foxes. If you don’t know anything else about my little girl, know this: she is a big fan of foxes. Period. Dinosaurs, fast delivery food and girly shirts have been thrown to the wayside. Except pizzas. Our Marta’s DNA shows she is part cheese, part peppered oni, and part cheese.
Our Marta is off being a big girl with a big girl job in a big girl city. She’s everything The Purging Lutheran and My Sweet Rib could want. She’s about as complete a human being could be; beautiful, tall, smart as a whip and kind and caring. She also totes around some of her parents’ baggage as well as some of her own, but if you don’t have a mountain in front of you then you don’t build strength, courage and integrity.
Psalm 144:12 May our sons in their youth be like plants full grown, our daughters like corner pillars cut for the structure of a palace;