Napkins

My mother, being both sentimental and batty, insisted on purchasing holiday eating utensils at every oppertunity. Every Thanksgiving, along with the stuffing and the jiggly canned cranberry, we had cartoon turkeys on nonlinen linens. Christmas had wrapping paper and hollyberry bev-naps. The plates, cups, and especially napkins were purchased for anniverseries and birthdays, halloween and graduation.

It was the napkins, in retrospect, that always seemed to make a special point of lingering around. Like the last of the wassle, or the slowly consumed black jelly beans, it was these functional tchochkies that made it the longest. It was a rare occurance indeed for all of the special little lint leavers to be used up by the end of the celebrated season. It was not uncommon in my household to use Happy New Year Napkins come the third of February.

I cleaned up Sebastian's mess today with a Class of 2001 napkin. Sometimes those silly napkins stick around to remind you of what a glorious year you have ahead, and sometimes they haunt you like unfulfilled promise.