“Free-stuff? More like free baggage!” Luna piped up, looking at the discarded wedding memento, a painting inscribed by guests with personal wishes to the newlyweds, now left to the sidewalk free-cycle giveaway wilds (presumably by one of the ex-spouses still residing in the brownstone behind the wrought iron rail on which it leaned).
“Divorce is rough,” I posed.
“Drain the jacuzzi.”
“Jacuzzi’s long empty, Kid.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Well, divorce is different than letting go. This here’s a letting go.”
“Lol free baggage like I said.”
“This effin’ city. Let’s go.”
There are other possible scenarios. I don’t know the truth. Perhaps one spouse passed away. Perhaps they’re still together and decided, on finding a wedding memento while decluttering, that they couldn’t store it, and perhaps it would bring joy to someone else. Perhaps its latest owner wasn’t anyone involved with the wedding. Perhaps one or both of them couldn’t bring themselves to throw it out, and left it to the wind to decide.
For a wedding artifact, that’s a lot of perhapses.
“Do you take this painting to be lawful wedded artwork?”
As I stared at it with Luna, I kept wondering why it was there, on display. To give this away to strangers just seemed wild to me. If it had been mine, and I wanted to get rid of it, I would have dismantled it as much as possible and consigned it to a bin, to then be bagged and sent to the curb, where it would be compacted into the semi-weekly NYSD pick-up destined, perhaps, for the Fresh Kills landfill, or a barge off into the Atlantic coast.
If I really really didn’t want it, maybe burning it would come into play.
The guests signed the matte, so there’s no way to roll that up if you want to store it.…