Mastadon

The warming half-light of Christmas morning revealed to me a wonderfully shiny brand-new toaster. A glorious aluminum box just waiting to be used for heating breads and bread shaped products. For awhile things were great. One day, or rather late afternoon an insta-grilled cheese sandwich was prepared using it. Another day, just plain toast. Yet another evening found it being used for late night waffles. Such is the use and times of an average toaster, in an average home, in an average city, state and country. Which is to say this was one very very special toaster. A toaster with its own tale to tell. For in the telling the toaster became something much much more, it became a memory. From memory it descended into fable and thence unto myth. At which point like a Mastodon browsing upon the Northern American Serengeti it passed out of time completely. Thus is cheese and Mastodons are thus.