Author L.A. Goodman

I witnessed the surgery of a trusted friend last night. Before we get too deep into this, the trusted friend didn’t have a heartbeat, two eyes, a nose, or a mouth. It doesn’t have skin and bones and internal organs in the strictest sense. This trusted friend has, nonetheless, been with me for no less than ten years. Ten years is no small thing for any sort of friendship, whether human-shaped or other.

Most of you know I’m a dog mom. My puppies are basically my children. They’re semi-spoiled, loved intensely, and treated with great care. Every Christmas, they get a new toy and a bone. It doesn’t matter that the toys they received years prior are still littering the floors of our home nearly untouched or they still fight over pieces of the bones from last Christmas. Still, every year, they get a new toy and a new bone. Sometimes they take to the new toy, and sometimes it finds itself in a corner until I get out the vacuum cleaner and move it.

Why would they ignore a new toy, you ask? Because both dogs have their favorite toy, a toy that takes precedence over all the other toys.

For years I’ve repaired the favorites over and over again, dragging out my sewing kit to push the stuffing back in, replace a squeaker, and repair a seam. My pups watch intently, with evident concern, until said toy is once again ready for them to toss in the air, shake aggressively, and repeatedly squeak, squeak, squeak…

There have, of course, been a few times when a beloved toy could not be repaired. I’ve waited for them to be outside or otherwise entertained to surreptitiously rid our house of the toy with ninja-like stealth only attainable in intense situations. Inevitably, they always find a new favorite. It might even be the one they get for Christmas 2022. Who knows?

It’s interesting, though, how we, like our pets, can become attached to inanimate objects. I sometimes ogle the books on my shelves just because I like looking at them and enjoy remembering how I felt when I read the story within. There’s a set of plates my parents bought me when I first moved into my own place. It has butterflies around the edge, and I’ve always been fond of butterflies. I rarely use them for fear of breaking them. But, on special occasions, I get them out and it makes my heart happy remembering the gifting and receiving of them. These are just a few examples.

And then there’s the ten-year-old friendship I’ve had with my trusted laptop. It’s still chugging along, operationally speaking. Last night’s surgery wasn’t intensive. I’ve written so much, so many stories, that the letters on the keys were wearing off at a rapid pace. Simple wear and tear from overuse. I ordered a replacement keyboard and Batman, fantastic as he is, assured me he could replace the keyboard. And since my trust in him spans the size of Texas, I handed it over.

I was ill-prepared for the sight of my laptop, opened up, guts spread all over the table, and my husband hunched over it with tools in hand. Sure, I have an external hard drive with all my work saved on it. Yes, I trust Batman with this task.

But, as I stood there, biting my nails and tapping my foot, it hit me, this laptop has seen me through the hills and valleys that came before any accomplishment or success. It’s seen me through numerous fears and insecurities, the multiple times I questioned and doubted myself, and over one million words worth of storytelling. I’ve imagined and dreamed, backspaced, and deleted, rinse and repeat. Again and again, until I finally screamed “I’m doing it!” and published my first book.

Like my pups and their chosen ones, this laptop is my favorite toy.

What if something went wrong? What if it doesn’t boot back up? It’s not as spry as it was when it was brand new, shiny, and directly from the manufacturer out of the box. Any number of things could go wrong! My overactive imagination had no problems coming up with every unfortunate scenario that could maybe, possibly, probably unfold.

Batman, being the superhero he is, saved the day, of course. He even gently told me when he began replacing the innards “I’m putting it back together now.” And I nodded and took a deep, cleansing breath. My trusted friend booted right up. I tested the new shiny keyboard with all the letters visible on the keys, and all was well. Bravo, Batman! (No, really, I love you.)

Someday, this laptop will become irreparable. Logically, I know this to be true. Such is the way of inanimate objects. Nothing lasts forever. Someday, I’ll be forced to ask Batman to throw it out when I’m not looking. But what an emotional attachment I have to it in the meantime if just for the sentimental, and sometimes fraught, journey we’ve been on, and continue to be on, together.

Attaboy, my trusted friend! Way to hang in there.

What about you? Do you have things you’re overly and emotionally attached to? Tell me about them!

If you’ve read Old Souls or The Nothing Place, please consider leaving a review on both books on Amazon and/or Goodreads. Again, thank you for your continued support and encouragement.

Happy reading, my friends! Love and light!

L.A. Goodman