Dear iPod Nano,
I know that things haven’t been the best between us since the move. We used to spend hours together a day — I’d listen to you at my desk, I’d take you to the gym and we’d spend an hour running or lifting weights. I’d mix you up every day and put new songs on you so we’d always be able to keep it interesting.
And then I moved … and I sort of put you in a drawer and never paid attention to you. Eventually, the life slowly withered out of you and you died, silently, in a drawer in the kitchen. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that I’d lost your life support cord — I couldn’t deal with the hurt.
But then, as fate would have it, our paths would meet again. I would find someone with a life support cord and I plugged you in. You were weak … too weak to even connect to iTunes. But you plugged along. You thought you could and you did.
As I listen to you right now, I can’t imagine a life without you again, iPod Nano. I promise to communicate with you better and never turn my back on you again. I promise to never toss you in a drawer again to die. Thanks for coming back to me, iPod Nano. Though it’s cliche and overdone, you do complete me.