Why Can’t I Throw It Out?

On the small stand next to the chair that I sit in for my morning devotions there are two opened packets of Beta food. They have been there for a long time. The little fish died months ago and I have long since disposed of the tall vase that had river stones at the bottom supporting stalks of bamboo.

Every time I think of throwing the little packets of food I wonder if I will get another fish and then I would need the food. When I talk myself out of that I wonder if somebody else has a beta fish and would like the food.

But if I get real honest, I think the reason I don’t throw out these little packets is because my dad would not have done it. For him, growing up in the depression everything needed to be saved and another use found for it.

I remember the day I drove home and found Dad lying under an old car trying to wrap some tin around a worn out muffler. I watched for a while. Dad and I had a deep understanding but we seldom used words. Finally, I asked, “How much would a new muffler cost?”

He answered $35.

I sat quiet.

Then, after quite a long time, he said, “It’s because it is more than the car is worth.”

I threw out the Beta food this morning. The two packets together were probably worth $3.

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