To all things, a season

Was King Solomon thinking about closing a business when he wrote:

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build. (Ecclesiastes 2:1-3)

They say that closing a business is (almost) just as hard as starting one. But I think it is harder.

Because sending emails to release your website domain

and giving up your EIN

and terminating your subscriber list

is pure defeat and death, plain and simple.

Strangely there’s relief, too. The possibility that some bulb gasping for air is finally able to push through the old dirt.

Perhaps Solomon was right: tearing down is precursor to building.

Last week I watched a TV show where Scots in kilts were having a friendly game of field hockey

and I laughed.

In a flash, I was back in high school, barreling down the field, happy as all get out. (I never pass up a chance to recall that I scored the winning goal in the State championship.)

In that moment, I realized that I have absolutely no need to play field hockey again. I am content to leave it in its season. And enjoy visiting it there now and then. No regrets.

Perhaps in the not-to-distant future I will enjoy recalling my tiny business, its frail hopes and funky business plan. And all the zany, happy, excruciating but fulfilling moments.

It was a good run. I got to run a small business. How lucky am I? I outlasted my father’s predictions that 95% percent of small businesses fail within five years. (I made it to seven before COVID.) And I even scored a few goals.

May I laugh.

So here’s to Vintage Picnic LLC — and whatever her death rekindles. To whatever comes next.

RIP.

PS. I will be happy to make you one more picnic basket!

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