A Brass Cash Register

From somewhere unknown or unremembered, my Father purchased a brass cash register. It was heavy, shiny and had wonderful working mechanical parts. The inside was stained with purple ink form some sort of printing device no longer present in the works, but no matter: It made a satisfying "ka-ching," the numbers appeared behind the glass at the top and the drawer opened and closed.

The compartments in the drawer were beautifully made from some dark, hard-wood. Perhaps we had filled them up with pennies or toy money at some time or another, but mostly they were empty.

Originally intended to become a planter (one plant in each compartment in the open drawer), it never acheived that goal. A wonderful plaything that sat on a counter top in our basement for years.

Then one day it was gone with no explanation. Sold for money? for space? because of boredom?

I never knew. It just vanished like so many other objects I loved. And now I'm older or old and soon I'll vanish like the cash register, though I'm nowhere near as heavy, solid or shiny. Where do we all go?