Two weeks ago I lost a dear friend.
A simple yet beautiful Czech-made churchwarden that fell out of my hands in an absent moment and broke on the floor in front of me.
I will try to repair it, but it's going to take some tools that I don't have and some care.
That pipe was a regular part of my Sunday afternoons that I find myself mourning this loss. I realize that it was a symbol of tranquility for me that has not yet been replaced by another.
Anyone else ever feel this way about a pipe?
A simple yet beautiful Czech-made churchwarden that fell out of my hands in an absent moment and broke on the floor in front of me.
I will try to repair it, but it's going to take some tools that I don't have and some care.
That pipe was a regular part of my Sunday afternoons that I find myself mourning this loss. I realize that it was a symbol of tranquility for me that has not yet been replaced by another.
Anyone else ever feel this way about a pipe?