The No Longer Wanted
By: Nora Jean Garcia

In conclusion, it failed to rise; therefore, the fallen chiffon has been deemed part of the parcel bound for the refurbished toy aisle. This isolated space in the store is dark, lonely, and only Christmas saves it from decommission. You've got here at the right time, because it's Christmas, and also because the elves are already there working. I see you've a sack of The No Longer Wanted, a sad ending to any toy's life.

Unless, of course, it finds itself in the capable hands of a skilled elf, then maybe not such a tragic end to the bygone glory of newness, a refurbishment; or what I call: new-toy-redone-finesse. Children can sniff out even the vagaries of ill-use, let alone damage in a Christmas gift. Children have the expectation of newness with Christmas when they should've a better expectation: love. Newness closes quickly and is a poor precedent to set for one's expectations in life. You can take my word on it. I'm older than Saint Nick himself.

I'll walk you back. The elves need snacks, and they don't care if the crumb is dry or the egg over beaten. So off with this failed cake, wrapped and packaged by the bakery as defective. I'll place it among the toys in need of the elves' kindly ministrations. See it there, the chiffon peeps from between broken legs of dolls and the cracked faces of alien figurines, cast in plastic. These toys've known hard times forging through mud and muck, by children's recalcitrant hands that have now long forgotten them. But it doesn't need to be the end of'em.

Here we are. Have you said your proper goodbyes? Get in your last hugs! Uh, oh! Teddy's already missing you. Of course, you keep him. You know, some attachments never die.

The End


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