He feels badly when he sees a sodden piece of solitary winterwear mashed into the pavement or floating–or worse yet, drowned–in the brackish water between rail ties on the subway track. He feels pangs of melancholy for its mate, no doubt still snug in a peacoat pocket or a purse, soon, too, to find itself cast aside, newly useless and forever destined to be cold and alone, bound for a landfill or a homeless person’s shopping cart.

Oh God. I think I just depressed myself into a crying jag. Wait. Wait.

Yup. Here it comes.

we hold them close to us and take comfort under them in our time of need – they protect us, make us feel safe and defend us from the elements. yet we quickly discard them with no respect when they sustain an injury to the wind. we step over their dead bodies that litter the streets after a storm – disgusted at their failure.

a moment of silence for all our fallen umbrellas and mateless winterwear….