What is this even about? -Jodi Kirkner

It always goes the same way. Antiques see it all. The husband off to war, and I'm happy for a while. And one day she gets the news: he's gone. She treasures me for a while longer, admiring me a lot, shining me, as if I'm suddenly more special. One day she forgets me, and then a few days later the same, and eventually she's finished with me and I'm back in the drawer. I'll sit for months, years, decades, until she remembers me again. She's old and wrinkled but still she doesn't wear me. In a few days, she gives me to the new boy. Her granddaughter opens me up and cherishes me for a while. I'm worn every day, taken off for showers, sometimes shown off to others... The worst day was the restoration. They soaked me for days and rubbed me raw. All of my aging gone. I'm young and shiny once again, but everything is colder. She's more careful with me. No tapping, or dropping, or scratching. But soon I'm taken off at night, every night, and sometimes for whole weekends at a time. I'm slid into pockets and packed away in purses, never in my box. After months of this I'm thrown in a fight, and picked up a few hours later. I'm packed in my box and stuck in a drawer again, to wait for the next man to come along.