Death of an Angel: Remembering my Nalgene (2005-2006)

I write today with a heavy, dehydrated heart. Yesterday while at the public library, a safety minded geriatric librarian demanded I leave my Nalgene Water Bottle at the front desk while I perused the aisles. And thank goodness, because we all know how often college seniors loose all composure around books and, like a mad fountain, begin haphazardly spewing water in all directions, screaming out “Water! Water! Water!”

When handing it to her, I just knew something terrible was going to happen, like awaking to a 4am phone call and instantly knowing tragedy has struck. And as my beloved was grasped by her bony, book shelving fingers I smiled sadly, unable to shake the feeling of inexorable dread.

I promised myself that I would not forget my Nalgene Water Bottle. I swore. I made an oath. I would not allow myself to succumb to my forgetful nature and abandon that majestic vessel which for the last six months has satiated my never ending thirst for water, nay, for life.

I forgot my Nalgene. And Derrik Eacho was not around to save it. Corrie couldn’t remind me to pick it up. Marisa wasn’t even there to sing about bananas.

This afternoon I purchased a new one, and dammit, it’s just not the same. Trembling with an impending sense of betrayal, my first attempt at drinking from it was a calamity. About an inch from my mouth my will betrayed me and I ended up throwing 24 ounces all over my face (and I instantly agreed with the libraries policy prohibiting drinks). The only bright side to the ghastly incident was that some of the errant water came to rest in my hair, and I quickly forgot about my Nalgene and began styling it.

But the mental, physical, and spiritual relief was ephemeral, and I find myself able to think of little else. I’m thinking of the beautiful times we spent together; the nights spent alone drinking enough water to float a tug boat; the unpredictable times when I’d throw it off buildings, or launch it skidding across the street so that it would have “character.”

Most of all, I remember the way my Nalgene looked when the sun struck it just right, a golden circle illuminated in brilliance, a halo of the unseen Angel of Hydration.