Best Of Everything

You don't need to be rich to want the best of everything and most of us have it whether we know it or not. What "it" is, is your best you-name-it. You know what I mean. Your mate or friend or parent says, put on these shoes; they look so good on you. Your answer is "No thanks, I am wearing these." And you haul out the shoes that, like old friends, you feel comfortable in. They fit. They mold to your feet. They might not look "the best" but you can depend on them to carry you through to whatever end is necessary and do it kindly. Everyone has their best jeans. They may be faded and ripped (unintentionally) in a few spots, but they are so good to you. They are your skin. They fit and don't fight with your legs when you bend.  They're well-mannered.  They know you better than your doctor and although they might not have the designer label (or maybe they do) you and those jeans, are old pals. The best includes small things, too. Insignificant ones. I am an avid crossword puzzle fan and I have, not far from my desk, a special bit of shelf within arms reach, where I keep  my most valuable things: my stylus for the touch screen computer, a tiny magnifier, a ballpoint pen that never fails and my favorite pencil. These are my most valued writing possessions.  I am worried, however. The other items on that shelf look like they will survive for a long time, but my lucky pencil who gets me through the morning crossword daily, is growing far too small. I took a long time finding this pencil. I rifled through countless drawers and scribbled on dozens of done crosswords to see how it would fare. This pencil is my ultimate "best". The lead is just soft enough to avoid paper glare and yet it doesn't smudge. Alas, soon its eraser will not let it fit into the pencil sharpener. That concerns me because the point is just right. Best applies to jewelry, too. My silver chains are my best chains.  Secretly, I think they are lucky. I forget why, but when I put them on, I feel it. And I need not worry about them. Whoever heard of a stolen silver chain? Likewise everyone has their  best mug or glass or plate. "Why don't you use your Wedgewood? It's not doing you any good up on the top shelf and you're not getting any younger," they warn. But my old black dishes, earthenware, in spite of its obvious scratchy surfaces, makes nice clunks when I take it in and out of the dishwasher or set it on the table. It's reliable.  It wouldn't worry me if it gets broken because it's standard stock. If I use the good stuff, there is stress. How would I replace it? There are new patterns now. Too much concern. It's just clay. And then there's my beast of burden, my car, my dear old Mustang convertible. It's top leans a bit and it squeals when I back it out and purrs in a  rumble when I drive. Love that thing. It has more dents and scratches than granny's knees but it doesn't give me trouble, and all it asks for is the occasional tankful of gas - and not the top grade, either. Ah, like you, I have the best of everything. It's simple;  what's best is what's most loved.