Space Available: Sorry, extra space, it’s over

There’s only room for one space in my heart now

Space and my thumbs had a good thing for a long time, but then the sentence ended.

Dear extra space,

After years of dedicated devotion and despite the strident tutelage of my 10th Grade Typing-Driver’s Ed. teacher (sorry Mrs. Rabinowitz!), it’s with a heavy heart that I tell you I think it’s time we end our relationship.

For awhile we were comfortably compatible in the cradle of convention — but maybe we just became too conventional. But not anymore, extra space. Things change. It’s not you, it’s not even me. It’s them. They hate you. They call you old and out of fashion.

But I still remember the good times we had. Sometimes I think about all we went though and… it gives me pause.

Every now and then I’ll find myself at a Padres game or a Nickelback concert, staring wistfully at all the forlorn empty spaces and think about what a thing we had together, extra space. Then I get nostalgic and think about sending you a late-night text with “I miss you’ with two spaces after the period before I add an emphatic ‘Really’ as its own separate forceful and declarative sentence, you know? Not just one thought, or even two thoughts all closely merged together with no space to breathe, but two thoughts, like us, each one its own individual entity yet inextricably connected and reinforcing the other while still…