Everybody has one. A drawer, closet or even entire attic where forgotten things go to gather dust. The bad purchases we don’t want to be reminded of. The smoothie maker that was supposed to be the key to a healthier life but ended up blending exactly two breakfasts before retiring. The pair of “golden” earrings that turned blue after a swim in the ocean, but we can’t part with.
You know what I’m talking about, right?
Today, I decided to open our closet of forgotten things. What started as a simple mission to clear some space for our daughter (the closet is in her bedroom) turned into a trip down memory lane when I spotted it. The elephant. Or rather, what was left of the elephant. A beheaded, five-kilogram glass colossus.
It was a cool, misty and rainy day in Addo Elephant Park, South Africa. I was sitting at a tea house on a hill, overlooking red earth and the trees that were hiding my husband Arno, who was running his very first ultra trail. “A few more hours before he’s here, Teddie”, I whispered to the little creature in my belly.
The whole morning I felt nervous, because as a Dutchie, there was little opportunity for him to practice running long distances in a mountainous area. Let alone in an area where baboons, kudu, eland and jackals roam freely. Luckily, the tea house had a lively, friendly atmosphere that kept me from losing my shit. Music played, spectators sipped tea, and an enthusiastic presenter kept everyone updated: “All runners have passed the first checkpoint”, “Our 100 milers have now been running for 12 hours.”
And then, before my whisper had the time to cool off, I heard the microphone again: “There he is! Coming ‘round the bend. Our very first 50-kilometer runner. Let me see, who is it? It’s Arno de Jager!”
Wait. What?! “That’s your daddy Teddie! It’s your daddy!!”
I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder in my life. So naturally, when the presenter handed Arno his ginormous, slightly ugly, five-kilogram glass elephant trophy, leaving it behind was out of the question. Despite Arno’s multiple attempts to convince me otherwise.
We lugged it through South Africa and Mozambique for weeks. Or rather… as I was pregnant, Arno lugged it.
Then, on the very last night of our trip, in a hotel room in Johannesburg, I heard a loud plunk, followed by a sheepish “oops.” I walked out of the bathroom to find it on the floor: the elephant’s head, neatly separated from its body.
“Finally time to leave it behind”, was Arno’s conclusion. But I wouldn’t hear of it. So, home it came. But what do you do with a beheaded glass elephant? It’s not per se a nice souvenir to display on the coffee table, so it went straight into the closet of forgotten things, where it has been sitting until today.
Now you’re probably thinking, as a semi-sustainable soul professing minimalism, I surely finally let it go, right?
Nope. It’s still here. Next to the dumbbells I used twice, the MacBook boxes we’re keeping until resale, and the dozens of books - read and unread – that neither of us can part with. Because some things, no matter how impractical, hold more than just dust, they hold stories we’re not ready to let go of. And maybe, just maybe, the spirit of that elephant, tucked away in my daughter’s bedroom closet, will inspire her to go on great adventures too, just like her daddy.
Love, Nina
In a former life Nina was circular economy advisor. She was missing a creative touch in her life, so she turned to copywriting instead. Then she was missing a sustainability touch in her life, so she combined the two. Now she's a sustainability advisor who writes, or - if you will - a writer who gives sustainability advice. She does this with her own company New Alchemists.
Nina helped setup Rethink Things. Together with the Rethink Team, she developed our strategy, branding, website, socials, newsletters, you name it. Today, she continues to write for the platform.
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