Thursday, August 25, 2016


Our old truck has survivor guilt.
I didn't realize that until today.
Then I put two and two together.

Our car was stolen a couple months ago.
Sometime in the dimly lit hours of the morning, with only the moon and the old truck as witnesses.
The driveway looked strangely empty the next morning as I stood staring in disbelief.
"Where did you park the car?" I called up the stairs to my husband, my voice quavering.
I knew the answer.
I knew, but I just didn't want to believe.

Can you love a car?
Ours was a dear and faithful friend.

Yesterday as we hastened across a parking lot to the truck, I remembered The Love Bug and as a joke, called, "Herbieeeeeee, Herbieeeeee."
How startled we were to hear,
across the sea of cars,
a plaintive, "Beeeeeep?"

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