It is our responsibility, although we don’t talk about it, to protect the older ones from the evils they’ve forgotten.
We hang bangles and stars, rattles and ribbons on the broom to protect the old ones. It is a compulsion in our genetic code. It is a reaction—a biological need to decorate the broom—you will not understand why, and by the time you’re old enough to explain it, you will have long since lost the impulse.
Without knowing why, we keep the darkest, most dangerous of man’s dark secrets at bay.
The old ones no longer understand. They sweep to make clean. We understand. We sweep to_cleanse_.
And we cleanse the sweeper.
It’s rattles, glitter, sparkles and bangles keep the dark filth from consuming us. We don’t just sweep away the dirt. We drive away the darkness.
It is our greatest responsibility.
We don’t know why. But we are compelled.