A Resignation

Dearest Nana,

In the course of a lifetime there comes a time for parting – of saying good-bye, putting aside the shackles of fear and uncertainty and striking out on ones own to meet the mist where the horizon meets sky. Every such instance affords a moment of reflection, of deep introspection and an opportunity to bring to fruition the true enormity that an event, person, or retail chain can mark on the very fabric of one’s soul. In an evaluation of the golden threads woven into my heart by that ubiquitous government run entirely by fruit, I have discovered a great deal about the most intimate parts of my own personality. In truth, it can be said that you, Nana, have completed me; added the second D to my name as it were and reacquainted me with the joy of discovering new planes of person and thought within myself. In thinking back to some of those evenings, my fingers running over cashmere-cotton blends, the unique blend of gospel-electronica-jazz-pop-what-the-eff music playing over the speakers, I see that I discovered a new part of myself. For that I am ever grateful, Nana. But even the moments of epiphany at the cash register, the disgruntled customers asking not only for a split transaction, a return with no receipt, and a refund given in the form of a manager-only-approved merchandise certificate, cannot hold me down for long. And so it is that I must leave to strike out for a new world, a new store, a new life where I shall be free to make plans to do enjoyable activities on the weekends and not be condescended too because I don’t know about “the accordion.” But do not think it is easy, Nana – No. It perhaps the most difficult retail-sales-position-at-a-store-named-after-fruit good-bye that I have ever had to make. And it will not be easy to forget my time there; for every time the wind blows through the air, a slight susurrus rustling the leaves, or the sound of a child laughing ringing through a bright autumn Tuesday during a leap year…I will hear the gently notes of your name sounding like the whisper of some earnest prayer. …Banana…

With the Love that Moves Mountains,

Tedd