For a while I thought it was love, but in the end I see it for what it really was: an extended infatuation. Not that it’s entirely over. I still cling to the faint hope that we can find our way back to the way it used to be. But in my heart, I know it’s time to move on to the next chapter of our relationship.
I’ve given you the better part of four years, and yet you owe me nothing. I will always remember the joy we’ve shared and the places we’ve been together. You’ve helped me to find my way on more than a few occasions, and for that I will be forever thankful.
You still look as you did when we met. You’ve aged well and you still shine. You haven’t really changed that much… but I have, and so has the world around us. I’m sorry that you’ve had a hard time keeping up. It’s a cruel world sometimes, and those of us who can’t adapt quickly enough, or thoroughly enough, are all too often cast aside.
Since we started spending less time together, I am reading more books; I practice the drums more than once a week, and I’ve recommitted to learning guitar; I spend more time playing outside with my kids, exploring the neighbourhood with one of your younger cousins, looking for geocache treasures. I’m sure that last one hurts… not long ago it would have been you accompanying us on our orienteering journeys. You’d still be more than capable, I’m sure, but I can’t imagine carrying you around in the woods when a more spry guide is available.
I hope we can remain friends. I still enjoy sitting with you on the porch over coffee as the sun rises over the North Shore mountains — reading news, checking e-mail, playing a spirited game of Words With Friends. I don’t intend to put you out to pasture any time soon… I just think it’s time to recognize that our glory days are behind us.
– Excerpt from “Ode to a First Generation iPad”
(okay, I lied… this isn’t an excerpt… I just said that to sound more impressive)